


Morse Home

by plasticism



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Punk, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Domestic Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Harringrove, Lead Singer!Steve, M/M, Max is a punk-fan, Other, Pianist!Billy, Platonic Soulmates Steve And Robin, Slow Burn, disaster punks, punk brats from hellkins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2020-10-11 22:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20553686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasticism/pseuds/plasticism
Summary: Morse Home – that's Steve and Robin following their dreams as a pop-punk band. Riding through the states in Steve's T5 full of equipment, working minor jobs for locals when they're short of money, chasing freedom with a net woven of written lyrics, dancing sheet music and friendship. When they run into the young pianist Billy Hargrove they learn that not every net provides a safe haven and that every choice comes with a cost.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! It's my first fanfiction in English and I am so happy the lovely [GuenVanHelsing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuenVanHelsing/pseuds/GuenVanHelsing/) did the proofreading. Thank you so much! <3
> 
> The original idea to start some punk AU with Steve, Robin and Billy came from [klayr-de-gall](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/) and she made some fantastic fanarts and will create further ones and some goodies for this fanfiction <3 As soon as inspiration kicked in I decided to write that fic and I'm happy to contribute something to that idea. Hope y'all enjoy it!

There was rolling thunder creeping up his stomach, the sort that boiled up until you were finally screaming out all the anger you sucked up for too long. There was lightning running through his nerves, leaving pins and needles everywhere, making his skin prickly and numb at the same time. Kris Roe stated that breakup songs suddenly make sense, and Steve was shouting along for another chance until he remembered that he wasn't to blame. He pressed forward – “Wolf in Sheep's Clothing“ – diving through a shitload of heavy rain that washed off the dirt from his windshield. The problem was, you couldn't see when a waterfall of tears was running down your glasses. Steve squinted, tapping a flat hand rhythmically against the steering wheel, screaming into the big black hole in front of him.  
  
“Tell me how you're sleeping easy

how you're only thinking of yourself.

Show me how you justify,

telling all your lies like second nature,

listen, mark my words:

**one day, you will pay**!“  
  
He sounded angry, hoarse and desperate, his voice swallowed by the drumming of rain on cold metal. And all the trees around him seemed to reach out with skeleton-like arms to knock on his door, begging for shelter from the storm.

But no one understood that he _was _the storm. And he would bring destruction, tear everything and everyone down that would get in his way even when he was shaking with fear, singing just to choke it down. It was one thing when a person sabotages themselves, another when Steve was going to destroy this person’s career just to build something new he thought would be best. _Everything will eventually work out_, is what he gave speeches about – if only he could cling to that now. Instead he put all his hope in one woman in this fucked up town.

The car's headlights flashed over a road sign – _Hawkins 10 Miles_ – and his grip tightened around the steering wheel. Steve knew he had already lost too much. Now it was about losing everything or fixing it. His route was a one way road that forked at the end and he couldn't possibly know in which direction his actions would lead. No turning back now. The streets behind him were washed away like in Alice in Wonderland.

Fuck the Queen of Hearts, all ways were his ways now and he would face what was going to come. He mostly came off cheap with everything he did and it never really felt like he was taking responsibility for himself. But this time was different. This time it was not only about him, but about the most important person in his life – it was about two lives getting tangled together and Steve was ready for that.

When he finally reached Hawkin's downtown area, his hair was a mess from the countless times he had run his fingers through the loose strands. Flickering street lights flooded the watered road, mirrored in his glasses and sent their welcome in Morse code. Steve thought back to the times when he used to drive this route to school every day. He had been popular among the students – King Steve – until some idiot had handed out badly printed fliers with a picture of him and Jonas Field kissing. It had felt like being stuck in a bad teen movie on repeat for the last year. After graduation he had not been too sorry leaving this narrow-minded small town to rock his story on other stages.

But there were a few people Hawkins blessed him with. Local police officer Hopper who turned a blind eye more than once when he caught his favorite king of disaster high behind the wheel. Joyce who wore her golden heart on her sleeves. His ex, Nancy, who had never complained about the shit she had to take when he came out unwanted. And there was Robin, the best thing that happened after his life as a main character in a poor teen movie had started. Now she was waiting for him miles away to return for their next show. He wasn't sure he'd make it. As he thought about it he realized that Hawkins gave him even more with driving him away. Someone. Steve wanted to keep it that way.

** [click for art to this chapter](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/187562496511/morse-home-chapters-1-fandom-stranger-things) **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it and are hungry for more! Chapter one will follow very soon!  
For more stuff to this piece and Harringrove in general check out [Klayr's Masterpost](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/186812160856/punk-band-masterpost.).
> 
> If you wanna chat me up on [tumblr](https://plas-ti-cism.tumblr.com/), don't hesitate! <3


	2. This Is Not A Love Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Now are you ready to grab the cradle  
That tunnel vision, not television  
Behind the curtain, out of the cupboard  
You take the first train into the big world  
Now will I find you, now will you be there?"

“Rob? … Robs?! _Robin?!”_

“What, Steve?!”

Steve was sitting on the roof of their T5, parked next to the rest room of a gas station a few miles out of San Francisco. The sun felt warm on his back, but made his smartphone screen hard to read. He shifted around and drew his baseball cap deeper into his forehead.

“I found the guy from yesterday!”

The van was standing near the toilet window and Steve was shouting in its direction.

“What?!”

“Yeah, you won't guess...”

“Steve, I can't hear a fucking thing. I am trying to pee here!”

“Sorry!”

He clenched his teeth, the corners of his mouth went down like gravity took its toll. It made him look like he had just broken one of his mothers antique vases – which he actually did once when he had been five or something. After that he had never come near to one of these damn things again.

Steve and Robin had left the parking lot around the corner of the gas station at ten in the morning after a short nights sleep in the Disaster Van. Their gig had gone pretty well, until some drunken playboy had pushed him to the ground for no obvious reason. Now Steve was looking at this idiot‘s sweet little teenage sister apologizing via instagram and telling him how big a fan she was.

Maybe her brother was just overprotective. Steve couldn't recall doing anything more than smiling and maybe a bit of harmless flirting to make her swoon over him some more. Because yes, he had felt very honored to have a teenage fangirl that listened to his shit rather than Cardi B. Robin always told him his Bambi eyes were made for that. She also teased him about not knowing how to use them in the right way. According to her, Steve mostly looked like a lost pup without any clue what's going on. But the point was, he did know how to behave around minors. Even if this guy had a major sister complex, he definitely had overreacted. A bruise on his hip was the reminder of where he landed very ungently the other night. Robin couldn't resist pointing out that it looked like a map of Cali. Still Steve refused to rely on that on their journey through California's streets and had bought a new map just a few minutes ago.

“Now, what guy did I miss?”

Robin was climbing up the two metal steps they had fused to the T5 after trading Steve's BMW in for it at some shady car park because she had insisted that watching the stars from the top of a car was the best. She had been so right, Steve had to admit.

“I found that dude from last night.”

“The guy you hit on that hit you?”

She let herself drop down next to him all in yoga mode, showing off the lotus position in perfection. One might think it would look funny on a punk girl from Hawkins, but it didn't. Her boondockers made it look a tiny bit ridiculous, but right now her fake All Stars with red and white stripes were tied to her feet. The first time he had noticed them Steve teased her about the missing stars. Robin had not given a shit, instead had started to sing about American Jesus and had shut him up for good.

“Funny. You won't guess who he is.”

“William Hargrove.”

Steve's lost puppy look was back on his face and he went silent for a full minute while his friend enjoyed her meditation.

“How...?” he asked very slowly, like he was walking on thin ice, trying not to make a fool out of himself.

Steve should be used to Robin’s sharp observation skills by now, but it killed him every time.

“How could you not notice? There were posters all along the way to the club.”

“Really …?”

“Yes, you're such a douche, Harrington.”

He huffed a laugh and handed his phone over to her.

“His sister apologized. I told her she didn't have to. I mean, it wasn't her fault after all.”

Robin looked at the message from a girl named _MadMax_jr. and her lips made that little twitch, they always did when she found something amusing and interesting at the same time.

“Sweet. Maybe you should apologize for flirting. That obviously triggered him.”

“Come on, I didn't really flirt with her, she's like 14 or something!”

“I'm talking about Lindsey Stirling on the piano.”

“I… what?”

“You are a lost case.”

She opened YouTube on his phone and handed it back to him, a video of William Hargrove playing live, melting the Moonlight Sonata with The Sound of Silence into a complete new creation. It was like dark chocolate with flowing caramel in between the layers and Steve could taste it on his tongue – bittersweet. It wasn't a very good recording but he could see the other man was dressed totally different than last night. How should Steve have recognized him with an open shirt, washed jeans and wild curls? He had looked a bit like he did just emanate from an 80's TV show. Especially in contrast to this. Black jacket, white button down, decent looking jeans and he was wearing a man bun. Steve couldn't take his eyes off the blond curls being neatly tied up. His lips formed a silent _'what the fuck'_ while Robin was climbing down the car. Right in this moment Steve connected the dots.

“I wasn't flirting with him!”

[click for art to this chapter](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/187694208781/morse-home-chapter-2-this-is-not-a-love-song)

~

Two hours later Billy was staring at a photo of a bruise the shape of California. A mole marked the area of San Diego like a google maps pin. There was also a message:

morse_king

_today at 10:43 PM_

My better half told me I need to apologize to you

still think it should be the other way around

but since your sis already did, you're forgiven

  
  
He needed a moment to progress what Instagram had just offered him.  
  
“What the hell? Max!”  
  
Billy could hear a rumble of indefinable things colliding from the kitchen of the apartment.  
  
“Shit! What?!”  
  
She showed up at his door a moment later, her shirt a red mess like she did just go full Patrick Bateman.  
  
“You're going pretty hard on these cherries.”  
  
Not only was his little stepsister a redhead, she also was a pighead that wouldn't wait for her mum to help her preserving sweet jam.  
  
“Fuck you, Billy. You could be useful and help me, you know?”  
  
“Got better things to do.”  
  
Billy noticed her eyes wandering over the pieces of sports equipment he had gathered in his room over time but she decided to keep quiet about it. He suspected what had been on the tip of her tongue and appreciated her silence.  
  
“You did pm that dipshit from yesterday? This Harrington guy?”  
  
As if the floor suddenly was on fire Max stepped from one foot to the other trying not to get burned. That was answer enough to what he already knew.  
  
“Why, Max…?”  
  
He sounded more defeated than angry. Maybe because Billy was still too relieved their parents hadn't found out that they had not gone to the movies as promised but to a concert of Max' favourite pop-punk band instead. And they also hadn't noticed that he’d had one drink too many. He hadn't been that much of a responsible brother last night, that much he knew. He had let his teenage sister stand alone in a crowd of strangers while he had been busy getting wasted at the bar. Billy’s argument with Neil the other day still had him in his claws and hard liquor would always help him break free. He knew Max couldn't stand her stepfather and she quickly learned how to stay out of his hair. So he had relied on her not to let him down. And she didn't. For his and her own sake.  
  
“So he did answer you? What did he say?”  
  
The redhead aimed for nonchalant but Billy could sense the electric vibes her nerves were sending. She had met a few famous people because of his fresh starting career but he knew that was nothing compared to having a chat with your number one favorite punk-rock band. Morse Home weren't even famous but that was exactly what she loved about them. Max had told him once: “No label, no strings attached. No commerce. That's the real thing.” And what Billy would give for that. Instead he had been his father’s puppet since he was a little kid. How pathetic.  
  
“It doesn't matter. I don't want you to talk to that punk about me, you understand me?”  
  
“What's your problem? He was nice. You're always such an ass when you're drunk!”  
  
Anger replaced excitement real quick and she turned on her heels rushing back to the kitchen for more important business. They were good at fighting but Max didn't seem to be in the mood for an argument of words and wouldn't give him any room to start one by waiting for a response – clever girl. Not that he minded.

Billy’s phone looped before it landed safe on his bed. Normally his workout would help him channeling his anger. Today, pumping weights didn't do the trick and he gave up after five more minutes. There was something about this stranger’s message that screamed for competition and Billy was always in for that. Provoking him had always worked very well, even worse in the last years. And that dumb punkass got under his skin and made his blood boil. He wouldn't be able to focus on his daily piano exercise that was lurking on his timetable, and that made him even more furious. Billy yanked off his sweaty tank top and watched himself staring back at him, a bruise of his own welcoming him in full color. He reached for his phone, took a snapshot of his ribs and without thinking twice sent it to this wannabe punk of a singer.

william_hargrove

_today at 12:56 PM_

Stop whining or morse home, Harrington

  
“Billy?”  
  
Max had sneaked up on him and managed to startle him so effectively that he lost his phone to the floor. The blank expression on his face would surely have made her laugh in any other situation. But right now she was saying his name with an urgent undertone like the kitchen caught fire.  
  
“Billy!”  
  
“What?!”  
  
He spun around, ready to yell at her some more because he hated the feeling she had just triggered. Embarrassment. Instead the words got stuck in his throat. Max was standing in the door, her hand wrapped in his white Hurley shirt she was wearing that was several sizes too big for her. She was bleeding through the fabric like she was on blood thinner.  
  
“Shit!”  
  
That was the only thing he managed to squeeze out of the tightness of his throat before he put on a shirt and shoved her aside to grab the car keys from the counter in the hallway. Max looked like a ghost and Billy lifted her up onto his arms trying not to fall down the stairwell on the way to his car. While driving to the hospital there was one persistent thought spinning though his head: _Neil's gonna kill me_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave some love and have a [fanfiction goodie](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/187739481231/how-not-to-apologize-when-the-idiot-you-hit-in-a)! <3
> 
> Credits to [GuenVanHelsing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuenVanHelsing/pseuds/GuenVanHelsing/) for proofreading, thank you so, so much!
> 
> And credits to [klayr-de-gall](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/186812160856/punk-band-masterpost.) who provides this fic with amazing fanart!


	3. Come As You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be.  
As a friend, as a friend, as an old enemy."

Robin couldn't believe they were actually sitting at Saint Francis Memorial Hospital checking out the emergency room – not for sightseeing reasons. About an hour ago they had been looking for some DVDs to stock up the collection for their movie nights. God bless the optical drive of her old but solid laptop. Since she had gotten to know Steve better, Robin had been trying hard to educate him about the classics movie history had given them and the soon to be ones. She wouldn't give up on it even when Steve still insisted that Dirty Dancing was a good movie.

The clock on the other side of the room seemed to change its shape the longer Robin looked at it. Time began running backwards. When they had gotten here Steve was brought to x-ray immediately so in terms of time they had been lucky here. The x-ray revealed a broken little finger and now they had to sit in the waiting room until a doctor was free to splint it up. When Steve told her the result, he had the lost puppy look on his face and it would have been almost adorable if she hadn't felt so pissed. She wasn't even sure why. Sometimes she just wished her partner in crime wouldn't be so clumsy. But that was Steve for you. At least it would be a funny story to tell – kind of.

“You angry with me, Robs?”

Robin turned her eyes off the clock to look at him and felt a little sigh wandering up her throat that she managed to choke down effectively.

“Makes a good story, right?”

His face did some acrobatic moves as if he had just bitten into a lemon.

“Can't wait to post it on social media. Let me take a picture.”

“What …? No!”

“The fans will love it.”

“They surely will when I tell them I won’t be able to play because I tripped over Liam Neeson.”

“You don't know that yet, Steve. Let’s just wait til you're patched up. Maybe it won't be that bad.”

Now he looked like he was in need of a fortune cookie and Robin bumped her shoulder cheerfully against his. The last thing she could need was a depressed rock musician. Everyone knew what happened to young depressed artists – Club 27 called. Her carousel of thoughts was spinning and she jumped off. There was no reason to worry. Steve would be up and running in no time, a smile back on his face. For the record, she told herself, it was just a broken finger.

“Robin?”

“Have faith in my words, young padawan.”

“What? Yes, no… am I dreaming or is that the piano guy over there?”

~

Billy had tried really hard not to drive like a maniac. What good would it do if he runs the car against the next wall? Although he knew that, his foot had been itching all the way to hospital to press the gas pedal for full speed. Now he was standing in front of the desk, one arm around his sister to keep her steady, the other resting on the wooden counter, explaining vehemently that Max needed to be taken care of right this moment. One minute later he was thankful for the nurses trained eye because she brought Max behind the glass door for immediate treatment. The adrenaline finally stopped rushing through his veins like hot lava and he felt his blood pressure sink. It was like walking on clouds when he found himself a seat to fill out the printed form he had just been handed. He rubbed his eyes to get rid of the blurry haze before he was able to identify the letters and make words out of them. Still, Billy needed to read some things twice. His mind started wandering off and made everything hard to understand, as it were written in Chinese. On top of that, he wasn't sure of the answers. Was Max allergic to something? Did she have had surgery before? How was he supposed to know? No one ever mentioned something in this regard. His body melted into the seat and his head tried to find some rest on the wall behind him. A little curse was on his lips and a black woman next to him made a noise that sounded like approval.

“Hey… hey, show-off.”

Billy let his eyes wander to see who was being rude. Then he realized that apparently he was nicknamed. Steve Harrington was sending not so subtle codes in an awkward kind of sign language. While he was following Steve’s odd hand signs, Billy asked himself if he was hallucinating. But he wasn't. The punk with the bad flirting skills was sitting just a few seats away. When he didn't react, the singer was up on his feet and on his way over, nearly tripping over the legs of other patients.

“Are you fucking kiddin' me...” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“Do you mind terribly if we switch places?”

Billy watched Steve trying to combine a soft smile with big innocent eyes like he did yesterday and of course the lady wouldn't mind. Before he could say a thing Bambi showed him his hand including a bruise on his little finger. It looked broken to Billy.

“Who's the show-off now? Don't recall doing that. So can't be my fault.”

“Actually, it kind of is.”

“Just… fuck off, man.”

If he was sure of something then of the fact that he had not broken this dipshit's finger. When the black women was called in for treatment, Steve waved at Robin to take the seat.

“What happened to lil' Max?” she asked.

“It's not your business. Stop changing the subject.”

Billy wanted them to leave him alone, but Steve took his words as an invitation.

“Oh, we're having an actual conversation? I like that. Well, I tripped… “

“Because you two needed to explore your nudist tendencies.”

Robin cut the singer short and didn't sound amused and all Billy could do was raising an eyebrow waiting for further explanation.

“We were at a store looking for some DVDs when Steve here looked at his phone, discovered a picture of a half-naked man and tripped over a stand-up display of Liam Neeson. And he broke his finger while doing so.”

Billy had to appreciate the blank singsong of her voice because it actually made the story sound pretty funny, but he was sure, it wasn't meant to be.

“Your turn. What's with your sister?”

He wasn't in the mood for conversation but what were his options in a crowded room? He couldn't just walk away leaving Max behind so he decided to answer the question hoping that they would get out of his hair.

“She cut herself.”

When they exchanged a look he added with rolling eyes: “Accidentally.”

“Is it bad?”

Lost Pup met Bambi and Billy was torn between the urge to punch him in the face or pinch his cheek. Instead he shrugged his shoulders. Not in a way someone showed he was clueless or didn't care. They went slowly up when he breathed in, and back down when he breathed out. Like his muscles followed a soundless song only they knew and relaxed into it. It's what he always did right before his fingers hit the keyboard.

“It might need some stitches.”

“Poor Max.”

Billy wasn't sure what to think about a punk musician caring about his little sister. To be honest he couldn't wrap his head around it. And it bothered him. Steve made him feel like he failed Max. Another sentiment he couldn't handle. Disappointment.

“You know, it's really not your business.”

“Well, she's a fan and she was really sweet yesterday and...”

“Not. Your. Business.”

His muscles tensed, his fingers began to itch and the other man seemed to notice because he quit talking. There was an awkward silence for half a minute before Steve's name was called from the door and he vanished into a fog of antiseptic odor behind the glass.

~

“Look who I found.”

Steve was dragging a rosy cheeked Max into the waiting area. She had a thick bandage around her hand and a few stitches underneath. He didn't miss Robin looking at the splint on his finger first before she stood up and sent the redhead a smile.

“You both good to go?”

“We are. Where's the piano guy?”

“A cop came in and dragged him outside.”

“A cop?!”

At the same moment Max gasped an 'Oh no!' and was out of the doors faster than Steve could blink.

“Jeez… what's with her?”

“Sounds like trouble”, Robin pointed out the obvious.

They followed her outside, happy to leave the smell of sickness behind and worried about what was going on. Steve spotted Max on the parking lot few feet away from a blue Camaro. His eyes went wide as he watched Billy getting pushed against the car by the cop Robin previously mentioned. He couldn't hear what was being said just the sound of a flat hand that landed on Billy's cheek. As he stepped forward, ready to call the man out on his bullshit, Max grabbed him by the arm. The look on her face made it clear that he was only going to make it worse. So he just stood there with guilt in his belly and anger in his throat, realizing where Billy's bruise must be coming from.

[Click for art to this chapter](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/187885701446/come-as-you-are-come-as-you-are-as-you-were-as-i)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think :)  
If you want to chat me up on [tumblr](https://plas-ti-cism.tumblr.com/) \- be my guest!
> 
> Beta by the lovely [GuenVanHelsing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuenVanHelsing/pseuds/GuenVanHelsing/) <3
> 
> For more information and fanart stuff regarding this fic visit Klayr's [tumblr](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/186812160856/punk-band-masterpost.)! :D


	4. Hook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It doesn't matter what I say  
So long as I sing with inflection  
That makes you feel I'll convey  
Some inner truth or vast reflection  
But I've said nothing so far  
And I can keep it up for as long as it takes  
And it don't matter who you are  
If I'm doing my job then it's your resolve that breaks."

Steve thoughts were drifting away in a hazy cloud. Trying to sort them, analyze them and make sense of everything seemed impossible. He touched the strings of his guitar in an attempt to ground himself and calm his mind. His sort of meditation. Robin was out getting coffee and Steve was alone in the studio room they had rented for some hours to record a few songs. Steve's fingers were following the strings, his mind catching up little by little, getting a hold of the images he had taken in two days ago: A cop hitting the guy that plays the piano like Steve wished he could. A cop hitting the idiot that hit him. Happy family life. What other explanation was there? And Steve knew about problematic family situations.

Since he met Billy for the first time, a strange feeling settled in his gut. Billy had sent out these vibrant vibes when he started his stare contest that felt like he had been frustrated and desperate at the same moment. This had stuck with Steve. Now he had proof that there was something bigger going on, that there was actually a reason behind Billy's behavior. Steve had tried to get a hold of Max the same evening. When she had kept quiet, a gif of Woody and Buzz saying 'friend or foe?' had been flying Billy's way but he had not gotten lucky there either. If something was worse for him than being pushed around, it was being ignored. And that was fuel to the already burning fire inside of him.

This weird feeling, a mixture of worry and anger – he wasn't even able to pin it down – had made itself comfortable in his nervous system, had infected his thoughts and sometimes managed to let him freeze in the middle of something like doing his hair, brushing his teeth or smiling at Robin. That's when she had noticed and started telling him he couldn't save everyone. Steve kindly had reminded her that if he wouldn't stick to this thought himself, there would be a lot of stray kittens, a few dogs and maybe a parrot living in the van now.

His broken finger was a nuisance and he now stopped playing, saving some hurt for later. When his phone pinged he was relieved they were pausing right now. Robin would have ripped his head off if this noise had made a good recording worth nothing because he was too worried and curious that he had not silenced his phone. A moment later Steve squinted at the bright light of the screen where a mail told him he would get a 50 % discount if he changes his supplier of electric energy. The corners of his mouth went down in a second and a frustrated sigh fought its way out of his throat. He opened his Instagram account, looking for a message even if he knew better. That was when he noticed a new picture Billy had uploaded. It was a photo of one of the posters that were plastered around the city. Billy was charming his fans in the description to come see him. Obviously there were still tickets available. Steve looked it up real quick, then checked his finances because they weren't as cheap as he had hoped. When the studio door suddenly opened he nearly jumped out of his chair, his phone slipping out of his hands and sliding over the floor.

“Oh, fuck me!“

“Manners.“

Robin looked startled as well.

“What's that with you and throwing things around?“

“I'm not doing that on purpose. Gimme back my phone.“

Robin had picked it up and was peering down at it. Steve's face went from 'oh shit' to 'don't hate me' because her expression went totally blank.

“Look, I just can afford one ticket“, he tried to explain, “Robin?“

He could sense the disappointment right the moment when she narrowed her eyes. Then she put the coffee and his phone on the table and rushed out of the room.

“Robs!“

Steve managed not to trip over his own feet while sprinting right after her. He caught her arm, stopping her from running and pinning her against the wooden wall in the small hallway. The lights were flickering, shedding warm streaks of golden color down on them.

“Let me go, Steve!“

“No, what's happening? Why are you so upset?“

He sounded confused because Robin usually spoke her mind. She was always straight with him. An ability he treasured and Steve surely didn't want her to seal herself off from him. The thought alone was a terrifying one.

“Because we're supposed to play in San Jose in two days, you can't be in two places at the same time, dingus!“

“Didn't you cancel that?“

The sound of his voice was pure surprise and he held up his broken finger.

“How am I supposed to play, Robs?“

“You don't have to. We use a tape. I mean, one part always comes from tape so who cares? You can sing and people will understand. Maybe you can do two or three slower songs on the guitar. No big deal.“

“No big deal? You should probably tell me your plans. How am I supposed to know?“

“I just thought it through on my way back. But that's not the point, Steve. You cannot make plans when we have upcoming gigs. You just did rely on me to cancel them instead of thinking of a solution because you can't forget a stranger and his family problems!“

Steve made one step backwards, not sure if they were actually fighting right now.

“I'm … sorry? Are we fighting? I hate fighting.“

“We're arguing. Or at least I am.“

Steve bit his lower lip, thinking about what to say to get out of this uncomfortable situation.

“You know what, Steve? Here's what we're gonna do: I will cancel San Jose, you go to that concert, try to catch Beethoven and tell him the fuck I know what, get over with that and move on to the next stage.“

  
That was Robin for you. Always offering solutions. And Steve gladly took that deal.

~

Her lipstick tasted like strawberry and she could feel it on her tongue. Max wasn't overly fond of the taste, though she liked the soft pink tone it had – nearly invisible, but she knew it was there. Blue-grey eyes were staring back at her from the mirror on her desk, framed by ginger hair. She examined her lips and decided that it would do. A few weeks ago she had started trying out make-up, because the girls at her school all went crazy for it at once as it seemed. It didn't take long for her to figure out that she wasn't made for that. At first Max had thought she wasn't skilled enough, then she had figured, she just didn't like it on herself. Just that light lipstick had stuck with her since Billy had recommended it one day at the drugstore. She hadn't even bothered to ask how he knew it would fit her so well. He also was the only one always noticing what made her look different besides the lipstick. New shirt, new wristband, he even had smirked about the hair ribbon with Jack and Sally on it that she had worn to his last concert.

Now he had not spoken to her in two days. She knew that silence well, but this time Max felt guilty. Guilty because she couldn't just have waited for her mum to come home helping her with the cherries. Instead Billy had to pay for her stubbornness. Every time it had escalated between her brother and his dad, Billy always needed time to recover physically and mentally and Max gave him space. She never pressured him to talk before he was ready, but now her body felt like it was about to explode with all the emotions that were boiling inside of her. She wanted to apologize again, wanted to talk this out or just wanted to know if he was really mad at her, if she broke something between them.

They were living in an old apartment built in the 40's with high ceilings and plastering in a few of the rooms. The space between Max and the ceiling, that normally provides a sensation of freedom, made her feel tiny and uncomfortable right now. She stood up on her toes and stretched her arms up high then slid them to the sides and let herself fall behind on the bed. There she stared at the plastering before letting out an annoyed noise. Fuck Billy, she needed someone to talk and Steve Harrington had offered. How could she resist? She had not even made the promise to Billy not to talk to Steve. Maybe she'd just ask the singer to keep quiet and not to write to her brother about it. When she reached for her phone, she could feel the cut on her hand. The doctors at the hospital had patched her up with a few stitches but it still stung. Not as bad that she would put herself off from her cello practice, but enough to make her wince when she made an unmindful move.

When Max opened her Instagram profile she noticed another message from Steve and felt slightly irritated but excited at the same time. She was prepared for a minor rant because she had not responded until now, but what she was reading made her jaw drop.

morse_king  
today at 2:38 PM  
Sorry to bother you but I need your help  
I just bought a ticket for your brother's show in two days  
would you meet up with me and bring me backstage afterwards?  
I need to talk business with him but he ignores me :(  
don't tell him!

So she wasn't the only one being ignored. Max had no clue what she should think about that, but she already knew she was too curious to turn his request down. Maybe this was a good thing. She couldn't see a bigger picture, but she was eager to find out where this would lead. Max felt her heart pounding fast when she thought about meeting Steve Harrington again. The redhead was just about to answer when her mum called for her to get ready for cello practice. morse_king had to wait a little bit longer, but she would puzzle out a plan with him once she was back home. Max grabbed the cello case and was out of her room with a burst of enthusiasm.

[Click for art to this chapter!](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/188175253561/go-shopping-with-your-sister-they-said-could-be)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are much appreciated <3
> 
> Beta will follow soon by [GuenVanHelsing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuenVanHelsing/pseuds/GuenVanHelsing/)
> 
> Credits to [klayr-de-gall](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/186812160856/punk-band-masterpost.) for her amazing fanart!


	5. Everlong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Out of your head, out of my head I sang  
And I wonder when I sing along with you  
If everything could ever feel this real forever  
If anything could ever be this good again."

Steve let his eyes wander up and down the red vintage-like front of San Fran's Victoria Theatre. A feeling of nostalgia hit him and sent him right back to the 90's where he had been a preschooler with too much adoration for the red power ranger, Hubba Bubba and his hula hoop. When he hadn't been busy counting the rounds he could do with it, he had used it as a portal to another dimension or as a weapon against a worldwide threat. Now he wished he had a portal to get inside quicker. Waiting made him nervous and he stepped from one foot to the other uneasily. Lucky him, he had been to busy styling his hair that he was a little bit too late and the line he was standing in wasn't that long anymore.

Steve was wearing the only decent jacket he owned that wasn't covered with patches, a dark blue button down, a pair of jeans with only one hole on the left knee and some dark boots. He watched his feet walking until he reached the pay booth at the entry after ten more minutes. A young, blond woman was sitting behind the counter, chewing bubble gum and Steve couldn't resist starring at her pierced ear. He counted five rings.

“Ticket?”, she asked, expression and tone blank.

“Yes.”

“One?”

“What?”

Finally Steve's gaze met hers.

“How many ticket do you need?”, she tried again.

“None, sorry.”

Steve flashed her a confused smile and held his phone up to show her his online ticket. The girl kept looking at him with that blank expression, before her eyes suddenly went wide and she abruptly stopped chewing.

“Are you Steve Harrington?”

Steve blinked twice. He wasn't prepared to hear his name out of the mouth of a girl behind Victoria Theatre's pay booth.

“I am”, he answered hesitantly.

“Cool.”

A smile appeared slowly on her lipstick red lips. It took Steve another second to adapt. Then he flashed her a bright smile.

“You want me to sign something?”, he offered, aware of the fact that some of their fans were too shy to ask. Even if she didn't strike him as the type.

“Oh, no, no need to. They scan the ticket inside. But I have a message from Max.”  
The tip of Steve's ears went pink and he just could feel it spreading down his neck and cheeks. So much for his degree of popularity.

The concert wasn't sold out, still the room felt too crowded. Steve made sure to sit on the left side in one of the last rows. Max would get him there after the concert, the bubble gum girl had told him. The red padded seats reminded him of Hawkin's cinema. He could almost smell the popcorn. When he had been a kid he used to visit it sometimes but he had always been more excited about TV shows. Steve had a good view from where he was sitting and once he had made himself comfortable the nervousness crept back into his gut. The feeling was similar to the one he always had shortly before he had to go on stage. His stomach tickled and his feet were a restless mess. He tried to put them flat on the floor to ground himself. He could see the advantage of Robin's kind of meditation. Steve had no guitar with him to touch the strings and calm himself, even if – it was definitely not the place to play. He imagined people thinking that it would be part of the show, maybe cheering for more and Billy punching his face after the concert because Steve dared to compete with him in his territory. That's not how you win someone's trust.

He had just opened the buttons of his jacket when the lights went out. Only the black varnished piano on stage was covered in a warm light. There was silence in the room at one go. It was the moment Steve really felt the urge to clear his throat, but he kept quiet. The head lamp shed its light on stage for another two minutes before darkness swallowed everything. When the spotlight went back on Billy was sitting at the piano, dressed in a beige-colored suit and a white shirt. This sight reminded Steve of Yin and Yang. Maybe it was intentional because what was capturing Steve in the next ninety minutes was a harmonic mixture of classic pieces melted into modern pop and rock songs. If anyone ever had claimed classic and modern music wouldn't fit together had never heard Billy play. There wasn't much show around it, just Billy reading poems in between – Steve couldn't believe it – and the intriguing secrets he drew from the piano, translating them in hard and soft, in bright and dark tones. When the lights went back on and Billy left the stage Steve was still starring at the spot where the blond pianist had just been standing, thanking his audience. Max sneaked at his side just a few seconds later and grabbed his arm, that's when the spell broke.

~

Billy stared at the punk who was standing in the door of his dressing room, both frozen in their movements. He had already changed his suit to a pair of jeans and was about to put his tank top on when Steve Harrington had walked in on him – and was now not so subtle looking at his abs. It took Billy a moment to cope with the situation and he chose to manage that with yelling.

“Shut the fucking door, dipshit!”

Steve flinched and immediately closed the door.

“Are you serious?! From outside!”

“Oh, sorry … I mean, no … I need to talk to you. I won't yell through the door. And can you please use your indoor voice?”

Billy yanked his tank top down his torso and flashed him an angry look.

“Maybe that is my indoor voice with little punks like you.”

“I was debating with myself if you're more like Woody or Buzz and I think you're more the Buzz type. Incredible suspicious and screening everyone because you assume the worst. But I am not your enemy. That's what I was trying to tell you with that.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The gif I sent you … Toy Story? Side note: Both became friends.”

“Are you five?”

“No”, Steve answered defensively, “I was trying to be metaphorical … in a poetic way?”

“More like pathetic.”

“That … was kinda funny … for an insult.”

Steve squared his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight and Billy felt his muscles tensing as if on command.

“How are you?”

“How am I?”, Billy said surprised.

“Yeah … I was worried.”

“Why the hell are you worried about me?”

“The bruise … and the cop … who was that?”

Billy's finger formed a fist and the nerves in his body began to vibrate. He could nearly hear the soundless humming. He tried hard to stay calm.

“Not your concern.”

“Okay … okay … listen, you wanna grab a drink? Doesn't have to be now, I'm in the city for two more days. Would be nice to get to know each other, right?”

Billy's face practically had the question 'what is wrong with you' written all over it. Why should he go drinking with that punk brat. That he liked to stick his nose in other people's business was annoying enough. He closed the gap between them, opened the door and yanked Steve outside.

“Hey! Wait … why … wait!”

Steve tried to grab him by the arm and managed to cling onto him.

“Fuck off!”, Billy growled and wrestled the other to the floor with a few quick moves.

Steve's eyes went wide with surprise but he seemed to catch himself quick because he grabbed Billy's leg just one second later stopping him from hiding in the dressing room.

“Listen, Billy, I watched your show and you're talented as hell. And there is this idea that popped in my mind the first time I saw you on YouTube because you really speak to me, the way you play, I mean. I'm writing this song, Morse Home, and I'm writing on it for a while now and when I heard you play I realized why I can't finish it, I noticed what is missing. I don't have the money to pay you right now, but as soon as I do I will. So, what do you say?”

The words came out in one breath and Steve looked as confused as Billy about them.

“Say what to what?”

Billy managed not to sound too annoyed but the moment he asked he regretted it. Steve bit his tongue and it seemed like he was trying really hard to recall what information he had just spilled. Then his brows went up as if an epiphany hit him and big Bambi eyes met Billy's gaze.

“Writing the piano part ...”

The silence that followed these words lingered over them like an invisible foulard that slowly fell from the ceiling, enwinding them both. For Billy it felt like it was stealing the air around him and his breathing got a little bit heavier. He didn't know what surprised him more: The fact that Harrington had the balls to ask him for something like a collaboration, when he couldn't even make a living with his music unlike Billy. Or that the punk musician with no strings attached and apparently no interest in making his music a commercial success was now trying to use his name to get famous. Hypocrite. It didn't took long for a well known feeling to begin rushing through his veins: anger. Steve still was hilariously clinging to his leg and he shook his hand off forcefully before slamming the door of his checkroom. It all went down so fast that the protest from the other musician did not start until Billy had locked the door behind him. Loud beating was followed by Steve's yelling.

“What is wrong with you?! This is not how you treat a potential business partner!”

“Indoor voice!”, Billy yelled back.

[Click for amazing art to this chapter!](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/188327247331/shut-the-fucking-door-disphit-next-chapter-is)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for reading! Comments will be cherished with love <3
> 
> Beta will follow soon by [GuenVanHelsing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuenVanHelsing/pseuds/GuenVanHelsing/) <3
> 
> And as always credits to [klayr-de-gall](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/186812160856/punk-band-masterpost.) <3


	6. Best Of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I've got another confession my friend  
I'm no fool  
I'm getting tired of starting again  
Somewhere new  
Were you born to resist or be abused?  
I swear I'll never give in  
I refuse  
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?"

Steve was furious. Furious with himself, with Billy, with the world, he couldn't even tell. It had started to rain, first just a silken drizzle, now it was like a curtain of wet strands hanging from the sky. He was on his way back from the concert to the van. His feet stomped on the wet concrete – restless as they were, burning. No amount of water could damp down that fire, just walking, moving, getting them tired, using up the energy. Had he just been clinging to Billy's leg minutes ago like a little monkey begging not to be left behind? Had he really just made more of a fool out of himself than usual? Definitely a yes. Business Partner? Very professional.

What had he even been thinking? Spilling that weird thought that haunted him for days. How could he had been so honest making himself vulnerable? That wasn't how it should go. Maybe, just maybe, he should've thought this so called plan of his through. There had not been a map with a starting point on it and a drawn in line that showed the way to the red crossed target. In fact there had only been a map in his head that wasn't worth calling it that. No starting point, no marked way to the goal – just the goal. He had thought he would just roll with it once he had gotten Billy to go drinking with him. First charming him, winning his trust and second proudly telling his better half that this golden haired star of the keyboard was just a decent human being like the rest of them. Should be enough to convince Robin to do a collab. He knew she appreciated Billy's music as much as he did. Now he was debating with himself if he had been foolishly wrong about Billy or if he should have had drawn this map – this plan – from the beginning to the end. Maybe. His clothes stuck to him like a second skin and the tips of his hair were dripping tears.

“Why didn't you call?“, Robin asked with a concerned look on her face.

“Needed to walk.“

“That bad?“

The van was parked on a campground with a bit of nature around and they had a canvas tighten to the roof and onto two bars that were attached to the earthy ground. That's were Steve was standing right now, sheltered from the rain. Robin handed him a towel when he had finally finished wrestling with his shirt. He gladly took it, trying to tame his hair, then running it down his chest. He was freezing now that he wasn't on the move anymore. Goosebumps everywhere.

“Get out of these clothes and hop in.“

Steve hurried with the rest and got into the van as fast as he could. Robin wrapped him into a blanket and that gesture made him feel better in an instant, transforming his tight pressed lips into a little smile. The mattress had already been rolled out in the back, guitar cases and bags carefully put aside and the cushions and blankets made it a very cozy spot.

“You wanna tell me what happened?“, she asked, offering him a beer.

He took it, marvelled at the dry taste, before he finally told Robin about his not so well-thought-out idea.

“Jesus, Steve“, Robin said.

It was a deep sigh and sounded like an insult to his wit.

“I thought he'd be more easy-going when he isn't drunk.“

“But offering him ... like … a job in your position. I know you're just missing few brain cells sometimes but he doesn't know you. Of course that rubbed him the wrong way.“

“Sometimes I'm asking myself why I'm putting up with you“, he muttered a bit hurt.

“Because I provide the extra brain cells.“

She winked flirtaciously at him and that finally made him laugh a little.

“But seriously, I wasn't offering a job, I wanted him for a collaboration.“

“Think for a minute, Steve. He has a name out there, and us? We are no one in this business. If I were Billy Hargrove I'd suspect you want to use my name to get attention.“

Steve went silent, but it didn't take him long to get that Robin was right.

„Shit“, he sighed.

“Yeah, shit. When exactly were you going to tell me anyway? I'm not quite sure you filled me in on that.

“I'm sorry, Robs. I needed him on my side before I could tell you. I was so sure you'd tell me that it's impossible to win him over and that it'd be a waste of energy.“

“You just proofed that.“

“No, I proofed that I am a total disaster when it comes to making plans. Would you help me, Robs? Please?“

Robin put herself into the lotus position and closed her eyes. Steve watched her breathing some calm into her body and hoped for the best. Billy's way to play felt right for this song and that was his only argument. He wasn't sure if it was a weak or a pretty strong one.

“I don't fully get what you're seeing in him“, Robin eventually said, opening her eyes. “But I get the way his music touches you. One last try. If he still behaves like an asshole, I write that piano part myself and sell that song to the top of the charts.“

“You hate fame“, Steve noted.

“You're missing the point.“

“What point?“

“Making a point.“

Steve rolled his eyes and huffed a soft laugh.

“Then I better teach you to read written music, eh?“, he teased her aware of the fact that she could only read the sheet music for the drums.

“Watch me“, she grinned and took another sip from her beer can.

“Learning to write music?“

“No, winning your muse over.“

That was when the tips of Steve's ears went pink.

[Click for art to this chapter](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/188477115636/watch-me-motivational-robin-to-celebrate-the)

~

Billy was furious. Furious with that lil punk. His evening had gone so well. Just a minor mistake when he had played a part of _The Magic Flute. _Didn't think anyone noticed. Otherwise he had been calm and relaxed, drowning in his own music, no need to breath, lungs already filled with life. Sometimes it felt like he was inside a bubble, noise insulation included. There it was just him and the sound of the piano. Newly born after he had left the stage. When the bubble cracked and he could hear the audience applauding for minutes, the prize for his work was paid. It's not the money. Shame, that he needed it to survive. He tried to see it as a job like every other but it felt different. Without giving people something of him – not the music – he wouldn't stand a chance against all the other talented bastards out there. He hated the spotlight, hated playing a role, hated that part of the business. That's why he was so mad right now.

This punk asking for his name to print on a booklet, on a poster, his fingerprints on a song. For what? Making money, betraying his own virtues. Fake punk music. Did Harrington really thought him stupid enough not to see right through his oh so charming words? Yes, his evening had been good – until now. His blood was boiling with rage and he needed a distraction. Sports, alcohol, something. Life chose something and that something was Max.

“Billy?“, she asked, standing in the door as Harrington did minutes ago.

“Got something to say?“

She looked so guilty, he already knew she sneaked that punk brat in. Max was at a loss of words, seemed not to know how to explain herself so he stepped in.

“Did he at least pay the ticket?“

“Billy ...“

“What? Why did you bring him?“

“He wanted to talk to you. What's so bad about it? Where is he anyway?“

“Out of town in two days, I hope.“

Max rolled her eyes. Yes, Billy knew he was giving her a hard time. After what she had done today, he wasn't even sorry. He took his bag and walked out on her, didn't look back. Her footsteps followed him. He could hear the annoying creak her sneakers made.

“Good thing: you speak with me again“, Max pointed out, sure of her victory.

Billy stayed silent. They followed the hallway to the stairs and them up to the rear exit.

“Very mature“, she added when Billy wouldn't say another word.

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“Why is it so important to you that I get along with that pri … brat?“

The door joined Max' creaking shoes when he pulled it open, waiting for her to step out first. The car was parked just a few feet away but he stopped at the door and looked at his sister, waiting for an answer. Max took a deep breath as if she was going to lecture him – and she kind of did.

“You wanna know why? I tell you why. He didn't just look away when he saw you with Neil, he wanted to step in. Not like other people out there not giving a shit. He asked about you, he cared – and I don't get why you need a reason. He did not need one. He likes you.“

“He doesn't know me“, Billy said.

It was harsher than he wanted it to sound. Max, as most of the time, didn't bat an eye, used to this tone.

“Maybe he does. He gets music, he lives music as you do. So he listened and if he listened the right way he noticed what kind of person you are. I think he likes that person.“

Billy looked baffled. His sis really gave him a speech and not a bad one. Sounded thought through. Impressive. He folded his arms defensively.

“So that's why he asked me for help to finish his song?“

He tried to disprove her words with a mocking tone.

“He did what?!“

Of course she would get excited. Stupid girl, too young to understand.

“He asked for my name. That's what he did. There you go Max: It's all about commercial fame.“

Billy started to walk towards the car. His dad was already waiting, a tall, dark shadow in the dawn. Without his police uniform Neil looked like an everyday dad. Just that he wasn't. Neil wouldn't clap him, wouldn't praise him. They wouldn't exchange a word until home. There his dad would tell him to sell himself better, work out strategies, improve his music. Billy could already hear it. His sister had caught up, grabbed his arm and was now walking beside him.

“I think you're wrong“, she whispered before they reached the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments below! <3
> 
> Beta will follow soon by [GuenVanHelsing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuenVanHelsing/pseuds/GuenVanHelsing/) <3
> 
> Credits to [klayr-de-gall](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/186812160856/punk-band-masterpost.) who creates amazing soulfood-art for this fic.


	7. Want you bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If you could only read my mind  
You would know that things between us  
Ain't right  
I know your arms are open wide  
But you're a little on the straight side  
I can't lie  
Your one vice  
Is you're too nice  
Come around now, can't you see?  
I want you  
All tattooed  
I want you bad  
Complete me  
Mistreat me  
Want you to be bad, bad, bad, bad, bad."

Billy had been wrong. That much Max knew. And now she had proof. Steve had chatted her up minutes ago, had explained everything to her and she believed him. Steve did not want her brother's name, he wanted his talent. Fuck fame, he wrote. She just wished Billy would understand that too. But he was too caught up in his thoughts, his opinion about Steve. It wouldn't make sense to tell him. It warms her heart to see someone trying to get closer to her brother. She wished he would see what an amazing thing this could become. Instead he was moping in his room since they had arrived at home.Max couldn't remember the last time Billy had any real friends. Always too busy to practice his skills as a pianist, too busy to manage school, too busy to beat people up and not letting them close, too afraid they could see behind his mask of him trying to be an adult. She would fix that – fix her brother – together with the coolest punk musicians she knew. Billy deserved it.

Her mission started the next day at ten in the morning. Robin had called and they had set time and place. Now it was her turn to try to get Billy on board without him noticing that something's up. That would be fun because Billy was very good in sensing anything odd. Like a dog sniffing out fear. Max checked the location on Google Maps and figured that the mall wasn't far away so maybe she would need a few things there and a driver for that. So far so good. She'd figure out the rest from there.

It was surprisingly easy to get Billy to drive her. No word of complain, not even for good meassure. When they entered the drug store and Billy went straight up to the hairstyling products, she knew why. Max rolled her eyes but this played well in her favour. She grabbed some shampoo and her favourite lipstick. Couldn't hurt to have one in stock.

“You done?“, Billy asked eyeing the lipstick she rolled between her fingers.

“Need new ear-phones.“

“They're shit here“, her brother pointed out.

Max managed to hide her smile and shrugged her shoulders instead. She had counted on him saying that.

“Isn't there a store around the corner?“

“Yeah, lets go there and get you some good ones.“

One thing Billy hated was listening to music with low quality headphones. She couldn't blame him but since she was very good in losing or shredding them Max gave up on high priced ones.

“I think I'm good with the cheap ones … you know me“, she said, sounding as uninterested as possible.

“I'm not standing by and letting you buy this crap, sis. Come on.“

Max followed behind him with a bright smile on her lips through the gangway to the check-out. She would lead him to the meeting point as if by accident.

“Over there, isn't it?“, she asked when they had left the mall and were walking side by side passing by stores fishing for costumers with adverts in their shop-windows. Perfect photoshopped women posing in tight clothes, muscular men with a six pack and Boss sunglasses. Society standards to live up to but everyone was beating themselves up because they can't. Because no one can live up to fake standards, no one should have to live up to any standard. Max looked at Billy, eyes turning sad. Go to hell, Neil, she thought, suddenly intoxicated by the thought to save all the parts of her brothers personality that hadn't been exploited for Neil's own good. Everything else? Will get fixed. Her thoughts were interrupted by three girls coming at them giggling and blocking their way.

“You're Billy Hargrove, right?“, the blonde chick with the fancy nails and sparkling lips asked in a way to exciting tone.

Max watched Billy switch from brother mode into professional mode: Charming smile on his face, open attitude.

“Live and in color.“, Billy smiled.

“See?! What did I told you, guys?!“

Max rolled her eyes and tucked at his arm.

“Come on.“

Before Billy could say anything Carrie Bradshaw Jr. handed Max her phone.

“Can we take a photo? Pretty please“, she begged. Of course she did.

“Sure.“

Billy kept his smile upright and put his arm around the blonde while Charlotte and Samantha gathered around them. Max noticed their touches and she hated it – the kind of fans who just liked him for his looks. Bet they didn't even listen to his music. What a waste of time.

“Max, stop daydreaming“, Billy reminded her to take that photo.

So she did – with one finger slightly on the lens.

“Thank you!“, the blonde said and took her phone back. “By the way, I love your poems especially the one about the bird without wings. That was sad but encouraging.“

“Oh, thank you.“

“You should publish them“, she smiled.

Billy looked flattered.

“I give that a thought.“

The girl waved at them, hair flying when she turned around and walked on, followed by her friends. Max made an oops-face and regretted sticking her finger between the camera and them.

“What is it?“, Billy asked.

Max took his hand. The moment felt right. Now or never.

“She reminded me of something.“

“Ha?“

“I show you. Come on!“

~

Billy's thoughts dragged behind. His sister was running so fast he needed to concentrate on his feet rather than the girl who praised his poem. Even if he would never be able to get accustomed to fans touching him that had been an encounter even he could appreciate. He had loved to dwell on that a bit longer but he was too focused not to stumble.

“Where're we going?!“

He sounded out of breath. More stamina training, definitely expandable. Max stopped in front of a brick stone building, pushed open the door and dragged him in. Then she turned to him and smiled brightly.

“Wait til you see this.“

Billy watched her searching the hallway for god knows what, then she beckoned him over before she vanished around a corner.

“What the ...“

When he finally caught up to her he noticed a red light above the door she was standing: 'Recording'.

“Wait … that a studio? We can't just ...“

“We can.“

Her eyes were shining bright and an uncertain feeling began to settle in his gut.

“Okay, what are we doing here?“

“See for yourself“, she said sounding a little bit too smug in his opinion.

Max pulled open the forbidden door and he couldn't tell why he followed her inside. Couriosity kills the cat. He should know better. Red warning sign blinking clear in his face. Still his feet kept on walking and his ears started to listen. There was the sound of a piano, the sound of a voice he would recognize everywhere. Billy stopped in front of the mixer, starring through a glass window. That's when he noticed that it wasn't a piano but a keyboard and Harrington was sitting behind it, eyes closed, his lips on the mic, breathing soft tones into it, singing about broken homes, never mailed postcards, withered flowers in gardens no one took care of and Icarus' wings:

_I never was a child of the sun, _

_flying to the moon, _

_an intriguing thing, _

_I'm on the run, _

_on Icarus' wings, _

_losing my title, _

_losing my right to be king. _

He didn't notice the drummer standing just a few feet away from him, just looking at these shiny lips, smooth like his voice already was, and when did it become a whisper? _Focus on the keyboard_, Billy forced himself. Watching Harrington's finger slide over the keys he noticed it: too slow, too clumsy, wrong tone, wrong choice. Oh, how he could make a better sound of it! Then their eyes met. Harringtons big bambi eyes – surprised expression, lips parted in 'oh'-formation – and they were looking at him. One last tone lingering in the air. Then that punk smiled at him. Relieve shining through, Billy could tell. Billy broke their connection, searching for the right button on the mixer. He pushed it, leaning down to the mic.

“Sounded like a D“, he said.

“What?“, Steve asked, glancing down at the keyboard, confused look on his face. “No, it's an A. Shouldn't you of all know that?“

Bambi got up on his feet and left the cabin, questionmarks all over his face.

“I was talking about your performance.“

“Billy!“, Max shouted and sounded so indignant Billy huffed a laugh.

“Just being honest.“

“He is right. That was shit.“

Did Billy just hear correct? Steve Harrington admitted Billy was right?

“Still“, Steve continued, “Better than everything you could come up with because you refused my offer.“

“Oh, that's what this is about? Making it a challenge so I'd agree to write you to a new level? Not happening.“

“Actually this is not what this is about“, the blonde girl said.

Finally Billy noticed her, trying to remember her name.

“Enlighten me then.“

“I watched you, Billy“, she said, “You were hanging on these lips, on these words and on this melody. It is something, right? This could be a hit. You know it. But it still needs finishing. Steve wants you for that and I can see why. The best part – and now you're allowed to feel really flattered: The thing that matters most to us is to finish it. So if you don't want it to be released after making it complete, no one will. I bet you have an agent, a lawyer, someone who could put it all in contract. You have a win-win situation here: We'll pay you for writing and playing the piano part. And it's your decision if we are allowed to release it afterwards. You will have the rights on this song as we do. We release it, you get your share of the earnings, we don't release it, you get the money for your writing.“

Billy blinked a few times. That was a lot to process. Did she really just tried to convince him that they would not release that song? Because she was right, this sounded like a hit. Like something that could lead to a breakthrough. Label and stuff. They were going to lay it in his hands? That punks must be kidding. Still, he liked the sound of it. These two had no idea what they've gotten themselves into. He'd handle them.

“Alright“, he heard himself say and he regretted it on the spot when Harrington suddenly wrapped his arms around his neck and hugged the shit out of him. Didn't see that coming. Max' horrified face popped up over that punks shoulder so sure he would wrestle her precious King Steve to the floor. Instead he just stood there, muscles tensed, remaining calm or at least trying to.

“I'm sorry … I'm sorry.“

Harrington stepped back, eyes wide, apology-mode.

“I'm a very affectionate person especially when I'm excited.“

“Yeah, me too“, Billy let his fingers snap.

“You're aweful, Billy“, Max knocked her elbow into his ribs and he caught her hand looking down at her sternly. Excited kid, shouldn't overstrain her luck. He knew that this meant something to her. She loved that band. Still, he didn't trust them.

“What about we have that drink I asked you about yesterday?“

The punk singer tried to find save ground.

“We can speak everything through“, drummergirl added.

Billy just rolled with it. On their way to a café he tried to wrap his mind around the last half an hour. He just agreed to write on a song for a punk band he couldn't stand. Beside teaching them a lesson there was this big 'why' hanging over his head like a questionmark. Because he wanted to prove that he could do better than Harrington? Because he needed some competition? Because of Max? Because he already adored that song? Or because he liked those voice, those lips, those big eyes? Fuck, did he really?

[Click for amazing art ](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/188811827911/klayr-de-gall-want-you-bad-if-you-dont-watch)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited to know what you think! Comments are much appreciated. Thanks guys for reading <3
> 
> Beta will follow by [GuenVanHelsing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuenVanHelsing/pseuds/GuenVanHelsing/) <3
> 
> Visit Klayr's [tumblr](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/186812160856/punk-band-masterpost.) for more fanstuff! :D


	8. A Little Less Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby close your eyes and listen to the music  
Drifting through a summer breeze  
It's a groovy night, I can show you how to use it  
Come along with me and put your mind at ease  
A little less conversation, a little more action please  
All this aggravation ain't satisfaction in me  
A little more bite, a little less bark  
A little less fight, a little more spark  
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me.

Billy couldn't believe he was really sitting in a café called 'Lucky Charm' with his sister, Steve Harrington and that punk girl – he still wasn't sure of her name. What he couldn't believe either was, that it was actually fun. They had found a free table outside in the backyard of the café. There was a balcony above where two dogs were fighting playfully which was pretty cute to watch. But it only got Billy's attention for so long. Harrington was much more interesting to look at. His smile because of that damn pups, his laugh when Max told him about the ruined photo with the girls earlier, the flirtatious look he gave the waitress. Hell, he wanted him to stop looking at other people like that, wanted him to look at him like that again, like the first time they met. Was that really only a few nights ago? Seemed to him like forever.

“So … got any recordings done for your song?“

It was the first thing Billy said after he had ordered. He had just been listening to the three, exchanging opinions about their favourite acts, their inspirations and about living out of a van.

“Straight to business“, Steve huffed a silent laugh.

“We're here for that, aren't we?“, Billy asked leaning back casually in his chair.

He didn't feel relaxed but was busy aiming to fake it, making himself look self-conscious. Needs to wear that mask because Harrington was making him nervous. Billy could tell Steve was good, seemed to be his natural self. Amazing how people can just wear their heart on their sleeves. Not Billy. Can't let other people hurt him, can't let his masquerade fall. Once it's destroyed Neil will break him. Not going to happen. He was careful as always – brick wall around him.

“No use in trying to get to know each other, mh?“

“Not necessary.“

“I think it is“, Steve said. “We'll get there.“

“Stop acting all smug or I back out.“

Bambi-eye alarm, kind of cute. Billy rolled his eyes trying not to get lost.

“Got any sheet music or recordings?“, he tried again avoiding any other kind of conversation.

Billy noticed his sis eyeing them both with a curious look. The drummer just sat in her chair sipping at her cup of mint tea. Totally chilled. He thought she might be stoned but he hadn't noticed any odd smell.

“I do, left it in the car. I get it later, then you can let your creativity run free. And you can mail me the contracts of course.“

“That's it?“

“That's it. You went shopping?“

“I ... what?“

The punk pointed at the bag Billy had been carrying around and poked at it with his foot while leaning over to get a better look.

“Oh cologne … what is it? Tom Ford? Jesus, that's expensive.“

Steve grabbed for the bag and before Billy could think twice he slapped his hand away shooting him a dark look.

“Hands off, buddy“, he snarled at him.

Made Harrington look a bit hurt. Billy watched him rubbing his hand. Didn't this guy know any boundaries? It's Billy's fucking shit. So why the hell is he sulking now?

“Steve's using Betty Barclay No. 2“, the drummer pointed out, bit amused.

“Robin ...“

Harrington went from hurt to flustered. Again, kind of cute to watch. Still, who the fuck cares about Betty Barclay?

“Is it good?“, Max asked.

Of course, Max did. Harrington leaned over just a second later, one hand on the table, coming real close. Quickly Billy saved his cup from getting toppled down just in time, pressing his back into the chair, getting some space between him and this idiot that stretched his neck and pulled down his scarf. White skin exposed, few moles showing. Billy traced them with his eyes, trying to make out what constellation they would reveal. His sister breathed in the scent and seemed pleased.

“I like it“, she smiled, her cheeks turning pink.

Billy really hoped she would never fall for a punk her age, because he would chase that fucker out of the house quicker than he could say 'anarchy'.

“You too?“, Harrington asked, already sliding nearer.

“Hell, no. Sit back down, man.“

Joking. Harrington was fooling around. Max and Robin both started to laugh, making him the fool. Now it was his turn blushing.

“Christ“, he muttered. “I'm taking a piss.“

Billy hurried inside, didn't want them to notice the blush. Dark wooden interior, soft light, lots of glass elements at the bar. He found the rest room opposite to the entry. Billy had just unzipped his jeans when he heard the door behind him, lights flickering the instant the door closed again. The mirror revealed the punk he did just ran from. Wait? He didn't actually run … did he? Not important right now. Why was he following him into the rest room?! He surely wasn't here because the coffee screamed for release because Harrington just leaned casually against the wall behind Billy. He tried not to freak out over this odd situation, just went with it, still watching Harrington's reflection carefully.

“Thanks for putting up with us.“

Harrington was looking right back before he lowered his head. Billy wanted to ask why he had followed him, why he was watching him taking a piss. But he already knew the answer. Harrington wanted him to listen, wanted him in a situation where he couldn't run. Man, this was awkward.

“This song … it's extremely important to me. I want you to know that I trust you with it. I know you won't screw us over.“

“Still you're making sure.“

Billy closed his pants, pulled the flush and went straight to the sink.

“Maybe I'm afraid.“

“That you are wrong about me?“

He took some paper and dried his hands before throwing it into the trash. The sink was a nice weight behind him, steadying his stand. Billy crossed his arms and leaned against it.

“No. That I'm not ready.“

“Not ready? For what?“

“Letting someone see me.“

Steve's gaze was meeting the floor now, avoiding to look at Billy.

“In my experience making music together only works well when you and your counterpart are on the same wavelength. But you can't bring yourself to trust me, Billy, because you know the musician I'm on the outside isn't everything of me. You think I am fake but I'm not. You just don't know the whole story.“

Billy cleared his throat. Kind of an uncomfortable situation. That's exactly why he used to stay away from things like this.

“I don't think you're fake.“

Harrington's eyes were back on Billy, wide with surprise.

“You don't?“

“Nope.“

“Oh … so I just got theatrical for no reason?“

The tips of his ears went pink, Billy noticed.

“You need to improve your skills. Reading people isn't your strongest subject.“

It was almost hilarious, this dump look on Harrington's face. As if someone just turned on a switch in his head, making him realize he had been wrong all the time. Now he was uncomfortably running his hand through his hair.

“Don't worry your pretty head, we'll get there“, Billy heard himself say before he strolled out of the rest room.

~

Steve took a deep breath. Smart move? Maybe. At least Billy now knew that he was willing to open up to him, letting him see behind his role as a musician. If he hadn't made the first step, Billy never would let him see what he was hiding behind the mask of a professional pianist. Another deep breath. Then Steve hurried outside and paid the bill at the bar like he promised the girls. Expensive excuse. When he joined the group outside they were already packing up. Steve watched the blonde helping Max in her jacket and didn't even try to hide his smile. He chose the right guy.

Steve and Billy were walking side by side, Robin and Max behind them chatting about Max' cello practices. Steve listened and thought he might have some use for her skills if she wanted to. But Billy seemed protective and he didn't want to stir shit up so he kept silent for now. As did Billy. Not one word since they had left the café. The guy was smaller than him, Steve noticed, more muscular though especially in relation to Steve's own lean figure.

“You have any further questions?“, Steve tried to get him to speak, even when he was thinking about less conversation and more action.

Pictures in his head, pictures of Billy's abs, pictures of Billy unzipping his jeans. _Yeah, fuck, stop thinking about that, Steve, stop thinking at all_. Conversation is important. That's why Robin and him worked so well. _Stay professional_. Robin saw right through him when he didn't notice it himself. Still he refused to, shoving these pictures aside. It was all about the music.

“You shut me down at the café. Saying: That's it.“

“Oh, yeah, well … yeah.“

Steve felt ridiculous stupid. That's the reason why Robin was doing all the negotiations.

“Yeah?“

“As I said, I trust you with that song. I trust your skills. I just … do we need to set a date to meet and going through what you came up with? Working on it together … same wavelength, you know? Making it harmonize.“

“You sound like you want to sit on my dick.“

“Yeah … what?!“

They stopped walking because Billy started laughing so hard, Steve could see the tears coming. He looked at him, eyes wide again, mouth open. Yes, he didn't hide his own sexuality, no big secret, but Billy? Was he making fun of him right now?

“Fucker“, Steve said and pushed Billy's arm hard with his elbow, making Billy tumble and laughing even harder.

“What's so funny?“, Robin asked, couldn't help but smiling herself.

Max didn't, Steve noticed, she actually looked kinda shocked. He desperately hoped she didn't hear what her brother just said. Not for young ladies. Definitely not.

“I am, obviously“, Steve answered, tone flat, the corners of his mouth dropping but a little flush showing on his cheeks.

They reached the studio building where Steve and Robin had their van parked before the rain.

“You need a ride?“, Steve offered looking at the sky.

Dark clouds had gathered and promised a rainy spectacle very soon. Steve hoped that wasn't a bad sign.

“We're good. Have my car parked underground.“

Still Billy followed him to the back of the van and peaked inside when Steve opened it to get to his bagpack.

“Did you know?“, Billy asked him. “That she'd bring me to the studio.“

“I was as surprised as you.“

Billy watched him searching through his stuff until he finally found a copy of his recordings and handed it over, thankful look on his face. Billy leaned against the car, put his bag aside and eyed the CD with a smirk on his lips.

“Oldschool.“

“My middle name“, Steve responded. “Means I'm all for old values and such.“

“Does it? Do you live by them?“

“Well … I'm an oldschool gentleman.“

“You're a dork. Give me your scarf.“

„What?“

Steve looked at Billy's hand, palm up, waiting for him to hand the scarf over. What the hell? Did he want to strangle him with it or what? Making him shut up? He shoved his suspicion aside and complied. Curious, of course he was curious. Turns out Billy didn't need a scarf to shut him up. Watching him taking out his perfume, spraying it on the fabric and putting it back around Steve's neck did the trick.

“What …?“

Steve really hoped Billy couldn't see his heart pounding like shit in his breast. Poking at his skin, trying to burst out. He never felt that confused in his life. At least not that he could remember.

“You gave me something of you“, Billy said, holding up the jewel case. “I gave you something of me. Didn't you say it's a mutual thing – making music? I'm building a mutual basis here.“

Billy squeezed his shoulder, took his bag and called his sister to leave before they would get soaked. Steve stared after him, the smell of black orchid in the air.

“Text me your number!“, Billy shouted from the end of the street when the first drops started to fall.


	9. Sex and Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I smell sex and candy here  
Who's that lounging in my chair  
Who's that casting devious stares  
In my direction.

Billy checked his Instagram the same evening to find Harrington's phone number in his messages. He made himself wait until after dinner, because it was not like he needed that number so bad, right? Now he was starring at it, no text, just a line of numbers. Had Harrington gotten shy on him now? Interesting. What about this mutual basis? No hello, no I'm looking forward to work with you, no nothing. Asshole. Why was he even caring? _Stop being a pussy, Hargrove, you handled him well enough today._ Maybe Harrington began to understand what he had gotten himself into. Billy copied the number, saved it in his phone and put the CD into his laptop, extracting the data to load it on his iPod. The rest was evening routine. Bit of workout to clear his mind, hot shower after, but no writing today. Most of the time he'd get creative late in the evening. Today he decided to lie down in his bed, room dark, ear phones on.

Harrington's recordings sounded good, mostly guitar and some tries on the piano. But the guitar was lovely, the melody giving him hints on what to come up with. He closed his eyes when Harrington's voice caught him by surprise, his brain picturing his face in the dark instantly. Billy had suspected there were only instrumental recordings on it. Certainly he wouldn't complain. Instead he listened carefully, breathing as soundless as he could to hear every whispering and murmuring Harrington made. Then he did listen again and again. His finger on the repeat button.

This voice was intriguing. He was licking his lips, picturing Harrington on the mic, remembered his mouth, shiny lips, innocent, these big eyes, closed, frowning, looking at him surprised. His hand went down, started caressing between his thighs, tracing naked skin followed by the soft fabric of his underwear. Billy started moving his hips into his own touch, biting his lip, trying not to lose focus on the voice that was whispering in his ear and the picture of Harrington before his closed eyes. God, these lips. His hand was now moving on its own inside his shorts, grabbing his hardening cock, closing around the tip of it. Harringtons lips smooth and restless, his mouth hot around his dick. Billy was sweating, pushing into his own hand, lifting his back off the mattress, sliding deeper into Harrington's sweet, sweet mouth. That's it. His head rolled back, soft moans coming out of his mouth, suddenly dry in need of a kiss. Lots of tongue, needing to get drunk on Harrington's taste. His hand now working fast, the other hitting repeat for another time. The soft humming, the little breaths in the beginning of the song. Again he started to moan.

“Fuck, yeah, Steve …“

Oh, he was close, so close. Wanted to come down that throat.

“Steve …!“

His thoughts stopped running wild, Harrington's voice still singing near. Billy tried to catch his breath, felt the warm liquid on his fingers. Exhaustion sinked in quickly as always afterwards. Opening his eyes needed lots of will power, letting go of this image he just had created.

“Fuck“, he whispered and stopped the music.

His legs felt shaky when he got out of bed trying to get rid of the mess he made – the mess Steve made. What had just happened? He had gotten carried away by a song – a voice – like he never had before. The next thing that popped in his head was the pleasure of knowing that the punk singer was actually bisexual. Could not only stay a fantasy. He stopped his thoughts right there. It didn't matter, he wasn't gonna start something here. Of course not. Professional mutual basis. Just – when was the last time he thought of someone he actually knew when he touched himself? Someone who was really in reach?

In high school he had been that cold hearted playboy, pretending to hit on older woman hiding the fact that he didn't know what to do with the young girls crushing on him. That worked pretty well. Until that day Ms. Wright tried to get into his pants when he was mowing her lawn. Her husband wasn't impressed at all, neither was Neil when that bastard ratted him out. Ruined family reputation got his skin a nice blue-green color he had worn for a while. If Neil ever finds out that he is gay, he didn't want to think about what will happen then. So he made sure to stay away from boys ended up shutting out everyone. Hiding dirty magazines under his bed, naked women printed on cheap paper just to fool others, to fool himself, being normal, being the son Neil wants him to be. Just to avoid most of the bruises. What a pussy he was.

There he noticed another thing to feel jealous about Steve Harrington. Not just did he find his freedom in making music, he also could be open about his sexuality without having to fear a black eye. Maybe that was what had made him so angry about Steve's flirting. That he just did it without having to face consequences. So Billy had made sure he would. Had pushed him to the ground, showed him his place, left a mark on him. A bruise in the shape of California. A connection.

_Take me on a ride, pretty boy, take me away._

~

It was early in the morning and Steve was lying awake wrapped in his sleeping bag. Normally he liked to sleep in especially when they had nothing to do than driving to Santa Clara in the late afternoon, making their way to the City of Angels mile by mile. Robin had woken him up minutes ago, early bird that she was, when she had gotten her things and had left for the showers on the camping ground. On other days Steve would just doze off again but his mind decided to get busy. Busy with melodies, chords and lyrics. He wanted to go for a shower too now that he was fully awake but he could still feel his morning hard-on. So he was waiting for it to drop, refusing to stuff it uncomfortably into his pants while walking to the rest room. Much less that he wanted people to notice. Yeah, it's nature but it would still be kind of awkward. So he decided to sit this one out. Steve's mind wandered on to payments and bills and Bill-y. The moment the pianist popped into his head he tried to stop his thoughts. He was already thinking too much about him. Steve rubbed his cheek into his pillow, making it a comfortable spot to rest his head and caught a glimpse of the scarf hanging out of his backpack.

“Fuck“, he muttered into his pillow, reaching for the thin fabric to bury his nose in it.

The smell was amazing because he knew it belonged to Billy – kind of. Billy had really surprised him yesterday. All playful all of a sudden. Steve liked it, could get used to it. Maybe he had been head over heels for him since the first time he saw him playing in that video, maybe even the first time they met before Steve had known what a talented musician Billy was. The cherry on the top of something very delicious. There had been something there that night and he probably had been flirting with Billy without noticing himself. That would be so him. And again: Robin would have been right. Annoying.

The fabric was touching his cheek and his lips now making him wonder what Billy tasted like when he was all sweaty from working out. He looked like the type who did his excercises, building up muscles and oh fuck, that was giving him images. It wasn't helping at all getting his dick to calm down. Steve sat up abruptly, packed his things, decided to stay in his shorts – they were wide enough – but wrapped a towel around his hip for safety reasons or so. He locked up the T5 and felt like a penguin trying to move as fast as he could to the showers in shirt, and shorts, and a towel. Luckily the camping ground seemed mostly asleep and he did not run into many people. Still he earned a few amused looks or maybe it was just his imagination running wild.

The men's room was empty when he got there, and he took the last cabin at the end. There was space enough for his things without having to fear that they would get wet. Before he got naked he brushed his teeth at the sink opposite to the cabin then hurried inside, locked the door, took his shampoo and put money in the slot at the shower. Watter sputtered out in an instand and Steve jumped with a shriek. That was fucking cold. But it was also helping, just surprised him. He rubbed his arms in an attempt to stay warm and waited. Not a full minute later he turned the water hot, sighing at the feel of it. Refreshing. Again Billy was dominating his thoughts. Just not in the way he had before.

Yes, it would have been pleasuring coming while imagining Billy's hands on him. But Steve refused to. If he would ever come with Billy's name on his lips then because of the real thing and nothing less. Now he was asking himself if Billy could sing. His voice gave away that hint. Maybe Steve's next goal could be finding that out. He smiled to himself before leaning more into the warm touch of the water. Can't wait for Billy to text him, feeling special because of it, hoping to make him feel special too. Maybe he needs to be aware of the fact that it wasn't all about the music with Billy. Admitting that to himself would help him acting controlled. At least that's what he hoped.

The water only lasted so long and Steve had hurried to wash the shampoo out of his hair, didn't want to pay again. Even if he was really tempted to because he hates the cold prickling on his skin after a shower in an unheated room, goosebumps everywhere. Fully dressed he looked into the mirror outside the cabin and wrapped his hair in a towel. That's when he stopped in his movement.

“Shit!“

With his arms full of his stuff – towel, shampoo, dirty laundry – he was running out of the rest room, nearly stumbling over his own feet, sneakers only attached loosely to his feet. He sent the towel flying in his run, caught it and waved it like a white flag.

“I'm so sorry!“, he shouted, could already see Robin standing in front of the locked van in nothing more than a towel and possibly her underwear, shaking.

She hated to drag all her things along, had stated they would be damp afterwards from the shower.

“Sorry, Robs.“

He stopped in front of her, panting, his lungs filled with cold morning air, burning a little like his now flushed cheeks.

“Brain cells“, was the only thing she said while holding out her hand for the car keyes.

In this case Steve didn't object.

[Art for this chapter <3 Please click!](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/189216131451/listen-to-ma-baby-read-the-new-chapter-on)


	10. One Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes this house feels like a prison  
That I just can't leave behind  
There's so many rules  
I got to follow  
'cause you can't let go  
I don't want to hear it  
And I just can't believe it  
All the stupid things you say but  
One day  
I won't take this anymore  
One day  
I'll be old enough to do, to do, to do what I want to  
I won't have to run away  
And you won't be there to say I'm not allowed to  
One day

“You were never supportive of my music,“ Steve yelled, his packed bag hanging loosely over his shoulder.

“Who did finance your hobby?!“, his dad yelled back – expected.

“That is not the same and it's not just a hobby! You never were at one of my concerts, never listened to a damn song I wrote!“

“Because I had to work so you had all this!“

Steve's dad waved his arms in an attempt to show what he was referring to: This house with all the expensive stuff inside.

“Maybe I needed you instead of a fancy house!“

Steve was tired of these discussions and his decision was final. He turned his back on his parents and walked out of the kitchen. He could hear their footsteps following him, the hectic click-clack of his mother's expensive Prada pumps.

“If you leave, know you never need to set another foot in here!“

“I know,“ Steve just said defeated – not looking back.

“With your grades you won't even find a decent job!“

“I have a decent job.“

His dad started to laugh and it sounded dismissive and desperate at the same time.

“I tell you one last time, Steve, if you leave, don't think you can come crawling back begging for a job.“

“I don't need a job at a bank and screw people over.“

That was the moment Steve knew he overstepped a line and he was sorry immediately – this escalated too quick. Just because Steve wanted to try another way, wanted to make a living out of his passion, he was now put down as a disappointment to his family. That hurt as much as his arrogant statement right now. But it was too late, he said it, couldn't take it back. Could just apologize – and he does.

“Sorry“, he said, turning to his parents, sad look on his face, honest eyes.

They were just standing there looking kind of shocked, his mom white like a ghost, his dad with dark red cheeks. Angry. He was angry. That's okay, Steve thought, that's better than hurt and disappointment. He didn't wait for a response, it wouldn't change anything, just closed the door and stepped into the future.

It was already getting dark when he drove his BMW through the wet streets. His guitar and bass in the trunk, bag and backpack on the back seat, the sweet smell of pot in the stale air of the car. It was a confusing mess that was storming inside of him. A weird mixture of feelings he couldn't get a hold of. At the same time, he felt nothing, was an empty bottle, all energy drunken up by the two people that had raised him, people he used to look up to, used to love the most. He still did but did it in another way. He was thankful for everything they had done for him. He had everything, just no support. That's what broke him, broke their relationship. A big house and money couldn't make up for that. Steve noticed that he was driving too fast when blue lights were shimmering behind him.

“Shit“, he muttered and slowed down before stopping his car on the right side of the street.

The police car stopped behind him and Steve opened the window before anyone could ask, hoping the smell would vanish fast enough. The rearview mirror showed a well-known figure and Steve took a deep breath. Lucky him. Hopper's flashlight was blinding him when he looked out of the window. Steve squinted, shielded his eyes with his hand.

“Sorry, kid,“ he heard the cop's rumbling voice.

Hopper lowered the flashlight after he took a look through the back window.

“You seem in a hurry. Packed bags 'n stuff. Can't wait to get out of town? Or got a dead body in the trunk?“

“Yeah … what? No!“

Hopper had a little smirk on his lips before his expression got concerned.

“So, you're really leaving? Without saying goodbye?“

The guilty look on Steve's face was answer enough.

“I would have called. It's just …. it escalated with my parents and I can't go back, so I'm getting Robs now and we're starting our adventure, you know.“

“You know what I think? I think we all deserve a proper goodbye. So why don't you crash at my place tonight, get Robin tomorrow and tell the kids goodbye then?“

Steve bit his lower lip before he took a deep breath. He knew Hopper was right. It wouldn't be fair to fly the coop, making up excuses to rush out of town because saying goodbye was too hard, would hurt too much. He knew. So Steve agreed and the moment he did he felt relieve flooding his veins and he tried hard not to start crying right this moment.

The night he spent at Hopper's calmed him down – and that was not just because of the pot they smoked. It was Hopper's presence, the advices the older man had, the encouragement. Most of all he listened to Steve. Listened to the things he wanted from life and what he was willing to sacrifice. Rich boy getting rebellious for real now. Living in a van would not be easy. But his music would be worth it and he wanted it out in the world, wanted people to listen to it. For once not hearing that it was a stupid idea, that this was meant to be a failure, was nice. It helped to melt his self-doubts and made him sleep well on the tiny sofa with the soft cushions where he did just sink in, his body buried deep, safe and sound and he slept dreamlessly.

The kids had a sleepover at Joyce's. When Steve and Hopper got there for breakfast, Steve was surprised to find his ex Nancy there. At first, he thought she wanted to get her boyfriend Jonathan, Joyce's oldest, but he wasn't home, was busy working at the local newspaper. She told him Hopper called them last night, trying to make a little farewell party out of the breakfast they would have had anyway and that Dustin had gotten all grumpy because Steve wanted to leave so sudden. That's when he started to feel a bit sick. Leaving the nerdy kids behind would be one of the hardest things. He did a lot of babysitting to add to his pocket money but found himself thinking more than once that he would even do it for no money. Steve really took them to his heart with all their Dungeons & Dragons and their video club shit.

“There's the traitor,“ he heard Dustin say with his specific lisp because he still misses his front teeth due to some genetic disorder.

Made this kid even more adorable. Not that Steve would ever admit that in front of anyone but himself.

“Hey Henderson,“ Steve nodded and noticed El, Hopper's stepdaughter, Jonathan's brother Will, Mike and Lucas sitting at the breakfast table while Joyce was busy making pancakes.

He watched Hopper kiss her on the cheek and rolled his eyes. They were dating, they were more than dating and still, both refused to put a label on their relationship. Not that this was a bad thing but he wasn't sure if it wouldn't be easier for all of them when they would just accept that they were in love. Maybe he would understand adults when he got there himself.

“I don't think there's a seat left,“ Dustin said, sipping at his cup of hot cocoa.

“Stop sulking, Dustin.“

Mike hit him with his elbow, made him spill his cocoa and that surely didn't brighten up Dustin's mood.

“Kids behave. Hello Steve, come sit down,“ Joyce smiled and pointed to a stool in the corner.

There wasn't a lot of space left but Steve took it and made himself comfortable between Dustin and Lucas. The kitchen was a cozy spot, not that big but Steve liked all the wooden elements and the earthy touch.

“So you really leaving today?“, Lucas asked.

Dustin just snorted snidely. Steve took one of the cups and filled it with coffee, pausing before he answered.

“I do. Feels right … if I don't do it now, I might never do it.“

“I think it's cool.“ Mike said backing him up. “Imagine all the people going crazy about your music. The world needs to hear that.“

“Thanks buddy.“

Still didn't make it any easier now for him to leave. For a moment Steve wished he hadn't met Hopper last night, would not be sitting here right now having a lump in his throat the size of an orange. He tried to act normal like it wasn't a big deal – everyone tried, except Dustin – but when Robin showed up and it was time to leave Steve's lips were quivering because he was trying really hard not to cry. When they were all standing in front of his car and Dustin gave him his baseball cap signed by the kids with names and drawings he had to wipe his eyes.

“Jeez, windy outside isn't it?“, Steve said trying to excuse his tearing eyes.

Dustin licked his index finger and held it up.

“Nope“, was all he said and that's when everyone started to laugh.

~

[Art to this chapter! <3](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/189418420056/found-family-if-your-own-parents-are-unsupportive)

Steve felt something cold on his sweaty forehead and the image of his adopted family faded away before his closed eyes. He was lying on the roof of their van, parked near a skatepark in sunny San Diego. He squinted at Robin who hovered over him with a can of promising looking Ben and Jerry's and couldn't help smiling at her. He grabbed the ice cream and sat up.

“You're the best.“

“Oh I know“, she said, sitting down beside him. “I might regret it. Sugar won't calm your nerves, I guess.“

“I am calm.“

“Are you? You're looking at your phone like every two minutes.“

It had been seven weeks now when he last saw Billy in front of the studio. Seven weeks and his scarf still smelled like him and it was amazing. And they texted, like a lot, which was even more amazing. Had turned out Billy could be really funny when he shoved his macho and competitive bullshit aside. Made Steve laugh at stupid gifs, made him swoon with concert pics where Billy was dressed up all gentleman-like, made his mouth water when the pianist had sent a selfie, shirt open to show him that waxing one's chest wasn't a pleasure. Billy was supposed to play in San Diego tomorrow and promised to meet with him to show what he had come up with so far for their song. Their song, not Steve's song. He had read the message more than once, heart pounding happily. It was almost surreal how good they got along all of a sudden.

“I'm not doing that“, Steve answered, spoon between his lips.

“Right“, she said looking at Steve's phone in his hand but froze in her movement when Steve suddenly started to frown. “What is it?“

Steve's eyes were reading his screen again and he made a little hissing sound before he let out a dirty curse.

“Steve, what?“

“He said his dad knows. Billy said he knows about the contract.“

Steve could guess what that meant and by Robin's look, he could tell that she knew it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the little trip to Steve's past. Let me know what you think! <3


	11. Lovesong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am home again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am whole again

Steve was tense. All muscles in combat mode. It was around lunchtime and he felt like a creep sitting on a bench in front of Billy's hotel, staring at the entrance, waiting for him to arrive. When he wasn't watching the door, he was looking at his phone, checking the time and hoping for a message that was going to tell him why he hadn't already spotted a blue Camaro with a blond haired pianist in it. Billy should already be here and the fact that he wasn't made Steve nervous. He couldn't even find a reason. Maybe Billy got stuck in a traffic jam but he could have also been in an accident. Steve tried to calm his nerves. Billy was nearly 30 minutes late, something like that happened. He might have taken the wrong gateway. Why the hell couldn't he stop being worried? That wasn't like him at all. When Steve's phone rang he nearly threw it across the street while jumping off the bench. 

“Yes?! Billy?!”

Irritated silence.

“Yeah, it's me.”

“Where are you?”

“I stopped at the location … was on the way. Wanna come here?”

“Oh … oh, okay, yeah … yeah I come. 15 minutes,” Steve answered, sounding breathless.

“You okay?”

“Yeah!”

Bit too enthusiastic.

“Alright. See you in a few.”

“Yeah, I'm ...”

Billy had hung up. Steve was still holding his phone tightly. His heart wouldn't stop pounding like mad. Then he started running. He was going to see him in 15 minutes!

It took him 30. Had turned out he had parked the van in a clearway and had to spend precious time convincing the cop that he was a poor musician who wasn't able to pay the ticket and tried bribing him with free entrance to the gig Morse Home was going to play this week. It worked to his surprise. 

“You're late”, Billy said leaning casually against his car.

He was wearing blue jeans and a shirt with too many buttons opened. The parking lot was nearly empty and the stage was looming behind a fence. 

“I'm … you're late! I was waiting at the hotel and ...”

Billy kissed him. Briefly, softly and when he leaned back against the car his lips were curled into a smirk. 

“Shut up”, he hushed.

Steve's ears turned pink, so did his cheeks. He cleared his throat and tried to calm his racing heart. Almost like it wanted to jump down a pipeline and start flying. Crazy hormones, like a fucking drug and he loved it.

“So … you had a safe trip?”

“Yeah, I did, Steve.”

Steve noticed the intense look in Billy's eyes while he was watching him and obviously had fun making him blush. 

“And are you okay?” he asked with hesitance in his voice.

He couldn't spot any bruises on the skin Billy's open shirt revealed. But he was aware that this didn't mean anything. 

“Did he …?”

“It's not your concern.”

Billy voice turned cold and Steve almost regretted asking. Just … how could he not? He had been worried the whole time.

“It is, Billy Hargrove, tell me. What did he do?”

He noticed something's changing in Billy's features and he knew he would get an answer now.

“Telling me I'm not allowed to work with some punk brats and ruin my reputation. I told him I am bound by contract so there's nothing he could do.”

The pianist opened the last three buttons and shoved the fabric aside. A big bruise was shimmering on his pale skin, spreading like watercolor down his side. 

“Shit,” Steve hissed. “That asshole!”

“Sounding sexy when you curse, Harrington.”

“Do not turn this into a joke!”

Steve was furious. He had been sure something like that had happened, but seeing it with his own eyes made his blood boil. Billy eyed him up while he was closing the buttons again.

“I'm not. Just no use in freaking out now.”

“Oh, Hargrove, the reasonable.”

That made Billy laugh.

“I can be. Come on, let’s check out the stage.”

Steve followed him inside, noticing the ID Billy had clipped to his jeans that gave them a free pass. With every step the anger fainted a bit more.

“You will finish the song with us then?”, Steve asked, voice soft, when they had found their way to the stage.

“Bound by contract.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Now I feel loved,” he couldn't stop himself from saying that, making it sound as ironic as he could.

“That's what I was aiming for,” Billy replied dryly, but couldn't help smirking. “I'll show you tomorrow what I came up with then you might feel really loved.”

Steve blushed again. 

It was amazing – the view from the stage. Steve knew that Billy wasn't the only one playing at this Open-Air-Event but that didn't impress him any less. He just wouldn't show, Billy's ego was already big enough. It felt like freedom looking from the stage into an imagined audience. Tonight the place would be filled with people and he could already hear the music and cheering. Steve felt proud and at the same time, he wished he could play there too. But he would be down there, part of the audience and he was totally okay with it. His day would come. He would be patient. 

There wasn't much time for them to talk because Billy needed to be ready for rehearsal so Steve had some shake-hands backstage with artists he didn't really know and a brief introduction to Murray Bauman. The man was Billy's manager and if they had met under other circumstances and not in Billy's dressing room he would have thought he was a private investigator from the 80's, the way he was dressed and questioned Steve. Smart guy but super weird. Someone he didn't expect working with Billy. On the other hand this guy knew how to outsmart the pianist so it seemed to be a good fit. He was relieved Billy's dad wasn't around but home working because he was sure he would have fucked everything up with showing Neil how much he thought he was worth.

Steve went to get Robin after another hour. She had spent her time at the movies so they met in front of the cinema and drove back to the camping ground from thereon. 

“And?”, she asked curiously.

“What?”

“How was meeting up?”

“Good. I was allowed on stage but we didn't have much time to talk, he was busy.”

She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Then let's get him to party tonight. He needs to relax!”

Steve wasn't sure he approved.

~

Billy wasn't sure when they had gotten to his hotel room. The concert had been a blast but from there on everything was a blurry mess. Robin had dragged them into a rock club first, afterwards they had been headbanging in an indie club called Brick by Brick where some over-enthusiastic punk rock band had been cursing about social standards. And he had thought of Max back at San Francisco who would have gone crazy about them. He remembered lots of alcohol, some sweaty dancing with Robin because Steve had claimed he couldn't dance to save his life and Steve's sloppy kisses before he had gotten himself and that punk a cab and had stranded with him in the sheets. They had been kissing for hours, at least that's what it had felt like, tasting each others tongue before Billy had started tasting other parts of Steve's body. It had tasted sweet and salty and wet and so, so good. And Steve's hands had pulled at his hair, dragging him up for another kiss, soft chest hair on Billy's skin, fingers running down his spine, brushing between his legs, making him shiver and moan and he had been cursing roughly in Steve's ear when he had collapsed on top of him, totally worn out.

Now he was lying awake at eight in the morning watching Steve snoring into the pillow. Also he was not so sexy drooling, which was kinda funny and he might mention it later just to see him blush again. Billy felt his head ache, seemed he was a little hungover. Maybe he could go back to sleep for a bit. Just the moment he closed his eyes again, a phone's ringing echoed through the room and he sat upright in a sec. Steve hummed into the pillow, buried his face deeper into the fabric. 

“Make it stop, Harrington,” Billy demanded and pinched his shoulder.

Steve was mumbling something Billy couldn't understand and he watched him searching for his phone with closed eyes and opened one when he wasn't able to locate it. He finally sat halfway up and found it on the floor beneath the bed. Then the sound was gone. He rolled around on the bed, looking at Billy with tired eyes.

“Sorry,” he said ailing. “We need to be at the studio at nine.”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Shhh... my head aches,”the tired punk whispered.

“You don't say,” Billy sighed. 

He let the strands of Steve's hair run through his fingers before he got up. That's when he noticed he hadn't brought his bag from the car to his room. That didn't brighten up his morning mood. Also, he had that 8 hours drive from San Fran to San Diego, two short nights and … Steve Harrington. No, he shouldn't complain. So he dressed up in his sweaty clothes, smelling like smoke and club and a long night out, swept from the room down to the parking lot, then realized that he had not only not brought up his bag, he hadn't driven his car here before he left the concert.

“Shiiit!”

Steve really let his brain melt. He went back up slowly to his room, finding Steve singing under the shower. What a cliche. He looked at his phone, checked for the time and let out another sigh. They wouldn't make it in time. Why did they thought renting the studio that early had been a good idea?

“Got some space left?”, he yelled through the bathroom door.

“Did you go to have breakfast alone?!”

“What? No! That would have been a short breakfast, don't you think?!”

“Okay!”

“What?!”

“I made some space!”

Billy rolled his eyes, got out of his clothes again and tried to stop smiling.

They were a few minutes late because they had to get Billy's car before they went to meet up with Robin at the studio. She had parked the van in the yard and they both changed their smelly clothes in there. Robin just stood outside, big grin on her face, holding up her phone and taking a picture when they climbed out of the van both trying to look as innocent as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again. Hope you enjoy these two idiots in love! :)


	12. What's my age again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one should take themselves so seriously  
With many years ahead to fall in line  
Why would you wish that on me?  
I never want to act my age  
What's my age again, what's my age again?

Steve didn't know if he felt captured or free or both at the same time. Most of all he felt overwhelmed. He had expected Billy to make this song sound complete – and he kind of did – just that it wasn't the original song. The look on Billy's face was a mixture of guilt and shyness. It nearly made Steve laugh how he was sitting behind the keyboard at the studio, rubbing his arm a few times, nervousness brightly on display. 

“You changed the melody,” Steve said dryly, putting up a stern expression.

“Slightly, it's a variation,” Billy said clearing his throat.

Robin was leaning against the door, looking thoughtfully at her feet and didn't notice when Steve tried to read her, searching for a clue – did she like it? Or did she think Billy had gone too far by changing the concept, bringing in his own style. He would understand. The thing was, it had sounded pretty awesome.

“I can change it,” the pianist added when everyone stayed silent. 

Robin hummed nearly soundless, tilted her head while catching Billy's gaze. 

“It's Steve's decision.”

“How is that my decision? We are a team.”

“I know, but you wrote it. If you are okay with the changes, I roll with it.”

“Just like that?”, Steve raised his eyebrows. “I want to hear your opinion, speak your mind, Robin.”

“Alright, just don't sit in the corner sulking afterwards.”

Steve grimaced from the other side of the tiny room, rolled up his sleeves and crossed his arm while steadying his stand with the support of the soundproofed wall behind him. The chains of his belt made a little tingling sound when they touched each other and the wall. Robin waited patiently for Steve to finish his preparation and was ready to face some criticism. 

“So … I loved the melody you wrote but you said it yourself: Something was missing. It wasn't just the piano part that needed an upgrade. The changes Billy made on the whole song is that upgrade. It might just be little variations of the basic construct but it did the trick, you know what I mean? That sudden twist of the melody that surprises you and wants to make you listen to the song over and over again. It's … “

“I know,” Steve interrupted her. “I feel the same way about it.”

Steve had no problem to admit it. He asked for Billy's help and Billy came up with something brilliant. It would be a shame not to use it because of a hurt ego and that wasn't Steve. If someone was better, then someone was better. Just work harder or if you had reached your limit you do the best with what you can do. That's what he had learned back at school when he had gotten tired of defending his title as the King of Hawkins High. 

“That doesn't matter,” Billy jumped in.

Both looked at him, question marks on their faces. Billy let his gaze wander from Robin to Steve.

“Do you feel at home?”

“Ha?”

“I've read the lyrics over and over, and the song it titled Morse Home. I didn't try to write the variations into the song from the melody I already had, I tried to write it from the feeling your words were telling me. It's about feeling at home, it's about home not needing to be a place … So does it feel like home?”

Steve could just stare at him, feeling like someone was pulling his scarf tightly around his throat. 

“ … yes,” he answered hoarsely. “Yes, it does.”

Billy smiled at him and seemed relieved.

“Good. Then let's get to work.”

Steve blinked twice when Billy winked at him. He tried not to blush and failed really hard. What was that with him and blushing so easily lately? He hated it. 

“I love it,” Billy grinned.

“What?”

“You blushing.”

“Shut up … ”

They worked until late afternoon and because Billy had done such a good job they could work out a first version the same day and – to everyone's surprise – got a recording done. Of course, that had to be celebrated. They ate at some fancy Japanese restaurant Billy wanted to visit. It was pricey and Billy insisted on paying the food while Robin and Steve shared their money to pay the drinks. Steve hadn't been aware that sake was a pretty strong liquor and he was tipsy when they left the restaurant. Robin had not liked it and stated that it tasted like water with denatured alcohol in it. So she stayed faithful to her lemonade. Someone also needed to be able to drive. 

Billy had his arm around Steve's waist, steadying him while they were walking back to the studio and their car. It was nice and Steve felt a bit feverish. That's when he started humming Night Fever by the Bee Gees. Halfway he stopped humming, instead began singing and shaking his hips, bumping into Billy who tried desperately to continue walking straight because he could feel the alcohol too. Steve heard someone laugh, realized that it was Robin who had started dancing a few feet in front of him and Billy. She walked backwards, moving to a soundless melody and singing along with him. When she raised her hands still doing smooth moves Billy released Steve from his grip, moving along with the both of them, touching hips, laughing and yelling the refrain over and over again.

They reached the car past eleven and Robin drove them straight to the beach where they wanted to sleep. Robin parked near the skate park where they had been staying earlier and they climbed out of the T5, stretching their arms and legs. Seemed like the place was empty. Steve watched the pianist getting undressed until he finally realized what was happening before his eyes and his cheeks turned into an excited pink.

“What are you doing?”, he laughed, eyes wide.

“Taking a bath,” Billy grinned before running across the skate park over one of the big half pipes completely naked. 

“What the shit?!”, Steve gasped, starring after him before looking to Robin. 

She just shrugged her shoulders.

“I never want to act my age, what's my age again, what's my age again?”, she hummed.

There was that little smirk on her lips and Steve started to laugh, remembered the video with three naked punks running through the streets and just jumped in on the fun. 

The water was cold and salty and most of all dark and Steve didn't know on what he just stepped right now and to be fair he didn't really wanna know. Maybe a crab. Billy had Robin on his shoulders, who was the only one still wearing her underwear and that was just because Steve had stopped her from getting naked.

“No fun,” she had muttered before she had pulled off Steve's shorts too hard while he had still been holding onto them and the fabric had ripped. 

“Victory!”, Robin had screamed before she had started running after Billy, waving the fabric in her hand like a flag.

“There're things in the water,” Steve pointed out with an unhappy look on his face.

“No shit, Sherlock”, Billy laughed.

“That's why I am up here,” Robin grinned and poked her tongue out at him. 

“Lucky girl.”

“Envious?”, Billy bantered with Steve who didn't take the bait but let himself lie down on the water surface face up towards the sky, looking at the half moon. 

“Nope, I'm content,” he eventually said. 

~

Billy woke to the sound of people talking and skateboards rolling. He felt a bit dizzy and tried to remember when he had fallen asleep. At least he knew he was inside the Disaster Van. A weight pressed against his side and he noticed Steve who had one arm lying around Billy's waist, his face resting at his shoulder. Billy could feel the soft breathing against his skin. He enjoyed it for a few more minutes for a good reason then slowly got up. Robin was pressed up against the left side of the van, also sleeping. He really wished he could remember where he had put his clothes last night because he was still wrapped in a towel with Hello Kitty on it. On his search, he tried not to make too much noise but there was no use. When he finally found his clothes on the driver's seat, Robin and Steve were awake.

“Why don't you play with us tonight?”, Steve asked when they were having breakfast at a McDonald's nearby. 

Billy had promised to stay for the gig but he surely hadn't thought of going on stage with them.

“Naa … “

“Why not? I'd like to play the song … and I don't wanna do it without you.”

“I don't think this is a good idea.”

“Afraid of ruining your career because you're playing with two nameless punks?”

Billy could tell that Steve regretted his words the moment he had said them.

“Shit, I'm sorry … “

“You really think that less of me?”, Billy asked.

“No, I don't. It's just … it would only feel right to play it together.”

“I'd like that, too,” Robin smiled, “Let's feel at home together.”

Billy wasn't really sure about the whole thing. Steve had been right, he was afraid of fan reactions but the fact that he did not want to be, that he wanted to make music as freely as Steve and Robin made him reconsider it. Also, the fact that this was something that meant a lot to Steve let him say yes. When he would start to overthink it now, he would never do it.

In the end, it felt incredible. They had been allowed to use the keyboard of the band who was going to play after them for a few dollars. Billy's hands had been shaking so badly behind the stage that he had thought he would not be able to play at all. Then he had focused on Steve, singing and rocking the stage with Robin. The heat of the headlights had caused his little punk to sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead and a slippy tongue licking the salty fluid from his lips. It had made Billy think of the ocean and the kisses they had shared when Robin had already been back at the van. The thought of Steve in his arms had flooded his body with calmness and the shaking of his hands had gotten better until he finally had to go on stage. Steve had announced the song without mentioning Billy. They didn't want to draw unnecessary attention. It was amazing. Not playing alone on stage was an experience he never had before and he enjoyed every bit of it, got lost in the voice of the drums, the guitar, the piano, the bass they had recorded and Steve. There was silence at the end of the song and for a moment he wasn't sure if he just imagined it but he didn't. There was this brief moment of stunned silence before all melody was gone and the crowd started to cheer louder than before. He locked eyes with Steve. He was smiling softly like the night before when he had been looking at the moon. Billy was smiling right back. 

They left the stage together, still full of adrenaline. 

“This was so much fun! They loved the song, right?! They did!”

Steve was all bouncy, happy smile on his lips. He looked so innocent Billy wanted to wrap him into his arms and protect him from the world. That's when someone yelled after them on their way to the dressing room.

“Morse Home?!”

Steve turned around on his heels nearly tackling Robin down with his guitar. Billy followed his gaze and eyed up a man in a casual suit. He immediately knew what was going to happen, yeah, he knew an agent when he saw one.

“He's going to make you an offer you can't refuse,” Billy muttered kind of cynical, the feeling of home crumbling inside his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I'm thrilled to know what you think! <3


	13. Love Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love hurts  
But sometimes it's a good hurt and it feels like I'm alive  
Love sings  
When it transcends the bad things  
Have a heart and try me  
'Cause without love I won't survive

“Why are you so upset?!”

“I'm not!”

And that was a lie. They were standing in the middle of Billy's hotel room. He had insisted on sleeping here since he was paying for it – because he was pissed. Steve had followed him from the club through the dark streets and into the room they had shared so much in one day ago. Billy folded his arms, trying to look like he didn't give a fuck but his eyes revealed the truth: He was lying. His eyes burning with emotions.

“Talk to me,” Steve said and brought some softness back into his voice.

“There's nothing to talk.”

“Oh come on, you just stormed out of the club cursing, walked all the way back to the hotel furiously and nearly broke the door to your room. So I am asking you again: Why are you so upset?”

Billy let out a rough sound before he hit his fist against the wall. He needed that right now, needed to feel the burn.

“Billy.”

Steve sounded calm. That was helping at least a bit.

“You give up your freedom,” Billy eventually said.

“I don't give up my freedom.”

“So you won't take the offer?”

“I didn't say that. It's just … making music is my dream and if I can't make a living I have to let my dream go.”

Billy couldn't believe it. This fucking agent was about to ruin everything, He also couldn't believe Steve had listened to him and had taken his card, because he had been promised a label. The real deal. That's when everything will be going to shit, Billy knew it. Contracts, rules – if you don't deliver you can go home. He didn't want that for Steve, he didn't want it to ruin him, eating up all the creativity and pure sound of Morse Home.

“They might destroy it either way.”

“You know, I choose to think in a positive way.”

“You're naive.”

“Oh, am I? Because you are all experienced and stuff.”

“Yes! They will shape you, your music like they want … “

Steve came closer, raised his hand and let his fingers run through Billy's hair. It felt familiar, made Billy think of his mother who had left them – left him – when Neil wouldn't stop beating her for no reason. The same he was doing now with him. He allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment.

“Don't mistake my lightheartedness for ignorance. I know the possibilities this offers, as well as the downsides. But you know what? Sometimes you need to take a risk and I … – we – have not much choice.”

Billy opened his eyes when Steve had finished his speech, still all calm, and looked at him a bit worried. The anger was still pulsing inside of him but with every heartbeat, it faded away more and more.

“Trust me”, Steve said.

“I'm trying.”

And that was a lot for Billy.

After Steve had called Robin to ensure her that they both were fine, he sat down on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs on the tiny balcony the hotel room had to offer. Billy watched him, cigarette between his lips, putting two bottles of beer from the minibar on the table. He was kind of relieved Steve had decided to stay the night. No one knew when they would meet again and that bothered him more than he would ever admit. Steve shoved the bottle over to him and held his own one up for a toast.

“To what?”, Billy asked, grabbing the bottle.

“Feeling home”, Steve suggested, a hint of pink on his cheeks.

The bottles made a light sound when their glassy bodies touched. The dry taste lingered on Billy's tongue and he took another sip. It was dark and just the ceiling lamp from the room shed some light on the balcony. The building on the other side of the street was mostly dark as well. Just two windows, where some late working office employees had missed the time to go home, were shining brightly into the night. Billy put out his cigarette before he looked back at Steve.

“Are you in love, Steve Harrington?”, he asked as casually as possible.

He watched the shadows dancing over Steve's face when he turned to him.

“Yeah.”

Steve did not flinch nor did he hesitate and he sounded incredibly sure.

“Oh, who is the lucky one?”

“Curious, ha? Answer first: Are you in love, Billy?”

Billy kept silent. Was he? Maybe.

“I know nothing about love. But if being in love means thinking of a person every free minute, wanting to hold that person close and missing that someone so much that it hurts when they're not around then I am.”

He was pretty sure Steve blushed. The way he lowered his gaze had given it away.

“When did you notice you're gay?”, Steve asked quietly.

“I don't know … maybe with you. I mean … I always knew that something was different about me but I never felt that way before, so … .”

“Wow,” Steve said. “What made you fall in love?”

“If I knew that, then all the mystic of love would be gone, right? When you can explain something like love it starts to lose its magic. But to be honest, I think there are lots of hormones involved, that make me feel t... ouch!”

Steve had kicked his shin.

“Don't get pragmatic now … “

“So you like romantic stuff?”

“I like to know who you are in love with.”

Steve said it with a self-confident grin on his lips and Billy couldn't help but laugh.

“You know very well that there's only one punk that gets to me.”

That's when Steve slid over, made himself comfortable on Billy's lap and Billy tasted beer, smoke, and Steve on his tongue.

The next morning arrived way to soon and Billy did not want to drive. But it couldn't be helped. He had appointments at the studio because he would start recording new songs soon. They had shared a long kiss, just a hint of tongue, mostly had sipped on each other's lips before Billy drove with a heavy heart. The ride was long and his phone gave up the ghost halfway through. Empty battery. If he had charged his phone beforehand he would have noticed a picture of him from yesterday's evening had gone viral and Max's message who warned him of a furious Neil. But he hadn't. And so he found himself in hospital shortly after he had arrived home.

~

Steve heard it from Max in the late afternoon. His fist hit the car so hard Robin was afraid he broke more than his little finger this time.

“Steve … what … ?”

“He beat him into the hospital!”

“Because of the gig … “

Robin didn't have to think twice. She easily connected the dots. The picture of Billy playing in a club with some punks went viral among his fans. If his dad hadn't noticed it the management surely had contacted him. Something along the line must have happened.

“It's my fucking fault, Robin. He did it for me!”

Robin shook her head.

“It's no one's fault. His dad is an asshole. Do you want to drive to San Fran?”

Steve looked broken, watering eyes, red cheeks and so much anger in his stomach.

“No … I'll end this.”

“What …?”

“If Billy doesn't, I will. I choose … I rather lose him because of my actions than by his father's hands. Next time he might ...”

Steve didn't say the words aloud. Max said Billy had fallen down the stairs in the stairway while trying to get away from his dad, had fought back when Neil wouldn't let him. Some bruises and a concussion. For what had happened he had come off cheap and Steve couldn't be more thankful for that. But who knows what would happen the next time. He didn't want to live in fear nor should Billy and Max.

“I need you to drive to Santa Barbara and wait for me. I will be back for our gig, okay?”

“Where will you be going?”

Robin had a terrified look on her face and Steve took her in his arm, calming her and him down equally.

“Don't worry … I need to talk to someone back in Hawkins.”

“That's a three days ride.”

“I know.”

“You could call … “

Steve slowly let go of her, his hands softly caressing over the sides of her arms.

“No. I need her to know how serious this is. This needs to be done in person. Please, Robin, I'll be back in no time.”

The ride was exhausting. The old rented car wouldn't start two times in a row but miraculously brought Steve to his hometown. He had dark circles under his eyes but singing kept him awake, anger kept him awake the last few miles. Max had sent him a picture of Billy lying in a hospital bed, swallowed by white bedclothes, looking too pale, unhealthy and so done. Steve had immediately felt the sickness creeping up his gullet and had tried really hard not to throw up. One message, he had written one message, telling Billy he would be there soon, no more words, he was afraid he would back off, would discard his plan. He couldn't allow himself to doubt his choice. Robin had kept him posted about what was going on on social media. There had also been a video on YouTube in very low quality but all the discussions had calmed down fast because Billy's management had chosen not to say anything to Billy's solo attempt. With no more fuel to the fire people quickly had gotten bored. Some had assumed it had been a marketing thing, others thought of a look-alike. What Robin also told him was, that the downloads on their websites had risen. That was an awesome thing but Steve couldn't be glad about it because Billy had paid the price.

It was late in the evening when he rang the bell to the Wheeler's house. Karen opened him, looking sleepy, a moment later surprised.

“Steve?”

“Hello, Ms. Wheeler.”

“What are you doing here this time of day?”

“I'm looking for Nancy. It's urgent.”

“Oh … she's not here, she moved out a few months ago. I can call her. Do you want to come in?”

“She's … but she's still in Hawkins right?”

Steve nearly started to shiver from stress and lack of sleep, afraid he had missed a very important detail. He hadn't spoken to her in two months and as he just had learned, a lot can happen in a short amount of time.

“She is. Come in, you look awful. I get you something to eat.”

Steve nodded slowly, feeling slightly better by this warm welcome. He waited in the kitchen with a hot tea and a sandwich in front of him. Karen told him that Nancy had moved in together with Jonathan a few streets away. This also had meant it would not take her too long to come over. And she really arrived minutes later. When she entered the kitchen she had this worried look in her eyes that made you think she was only seeing you right this moment like she knew that you needed her help – because she cared for her friends.

“Steve … what happened?”

She was still standing at the kitchen entrance, unable to move, eyes staring at him, her hair in wild curls. Beautiful. That was the first time after the terrible news that Steve smiled – relieved, thankful that she would listen to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly we're reaching the finish line, thanks for staying with me 'til now! <3


	14. Start Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clenched teeth, no words  
All this distance taking is a toll  
Speaking volumes  
Silence screaming over your words  
I never did you right, I know that  
Too many sleepless nights, I own that  
I said it time and time, I know that  
I want to try again  
Can we start over?  
Can we start over?  
Can we start over?  
Before it's over, over

Steve and Nancy were sitting in the garden behind the Wheeler's house on two lawn chairs – separated – hadn't been always like this. But these times were over. Nancy looked down at the bottle of coke in her hands like she would expect it to give her advice any minute on what she should do with Steve's request. And Steve? He felt guilty to bring her in such a situation.

“This could be huge … like … what if this blows back on you? He's a cop after all,” Nancy said eventually. “And on Robin.”

“It's a risk I am willing to take.”

“Yeah, you. What about Robin? I mean, Billy is old enough, he could just move out.”

“But he wouldn't because of Max. If his dad would start to take it out on her … “

“Then talk to her mother,” Nancy suggested.

“You know what love does to someone. It makes them blind.”

Nancy looked at him meaningfully.

“I see pretty clear, Nance. If we don't try this, who knows what might happen the next time? And since Neil is a cop he might just get away with it.”

She sighed deeply and then she nodded in agreement.

“Oh my god, thank you!”

Steve nearly stumbled over his own feet when he got up and hauled her into his arms.

“Thank you.”

He whispered it the second time. How lucky he was to call her a friend and thank god she worked at the local newspaper.

“When do you think they will publish it?”

“Day after tomorrow. I will write it first thing in the morning. It needs to happen fast or I can't sell it as 'breaking news'.”

~

Steve was shaking in his car from fear and agitation when he drove off. Halfway out of town he decided to stop and park the car on an empty parking lot at the side of the road. He needed to be back as fast as he could but he also needed at least one or two hours of sleep. Not even all the emotions that were running through his entire body could stop his want for some rest. Steve set the alarm on his phone, didn't bother looking at any of the messages he had received, the signal was bad anyway, and just seconds later fell asleep in the driver's seat.

It seemed like a dream. He had only been in Hawkins for a few hours and he asked himself if he would have stayed any longer if Robin wasn't waiting. For the kids for sure. But he also was relieved to find himself on the street to Santa Barbara – far away from old memories. Another day to drive, another few hours in the car or some cheap motel and he would be back on stage. At least, that's what he thought. His phone started ringing on the front seat annoyingly. He ignored it the first two times, then parked the car at the side of the road, bit nervous that it would have difficulties to start running again. Then he picked up.

“Robin?”

“Are you crazy?!”

Steve held his phone away as much as his arm allowed him to.

“Shouldn't you know that by now?!”, he yelled back so she could hear him.

When he was sure she would use her indoor voice he risked to put his phone back to his ear.

“Max called me. When they let Billy out of hospital this morning there was a horde of photographers and interviewers waiting, because there was an article all over social media. I quote: “Pianist Billy Hargrove in Hospital. Because he joined Morse Home, a punk rock band from Hawkins on stage, he got beaten up by his own father.” And the paper stated that you spoke with them, telling them it had been going on for years and that Neil is a fame-driven sick bastard.”

“I told my dad I would make it into the newspaper. And, yes, I might have said that.”

“This isn't funny!”

“I know!”

“You turned their world upside-down!”

“No, Neil did … I'm getting them out of there.”

There was silence for at least 30 seconds before Robin sighed deeply. She was smart, she knew why Steve did it – no explanation needed.

“I canceled the gig. We meet up in San José and drive to San Fran, okay? Billy needs you … even though I am not sure that he wanted to be saved and if he ever speaks to you again.”

“ … thanks, Robin. Guess I'll find out when I get there.”

~

Billy felt like someone had hit him with a sledgehammer. And that wasn't the aftermath of his concussion. He was sitting on the old sofa at Murray's office together with Max who quick-witted had contacted his manager and had picked Billy up together with him. Murray had been all professional shutting the media down and losing them with an interesting car ride through San Francisco's streets. Max was white like a ghost due to Murray's driving style and all the commotion about this article. She had a cup of tea in her hands and Billy could feel her eyes on him. He himself was sipping some bad coffee and had his eyes focused on the article a third time. How could Steve have done such a thing? He had trusted him. All had been about to calm down and now Steve stirred up so much shit that it would affect his private life as well as his career. Neil had already been suspended, Max had told him. Now she was afraid that Neil would take it out on her mom who refused to leave her husband's side. Billy hadn't been sure what to say because he couldn't guarantee that she was safe. Neil was volatile when anger had him in his claws – a walking tinderbox.

Murray wandered in with another pot of that horrible coffee and sat down behind his desk. After putting lots of sugar into his cup he lit up a cigarette and leaned back, exhaled a little cloud of smoke.

“I think it's better for you to stay at a hotel for now.”

“Wasn't my intention to go back and die.”

Billy tried to sound sarcastic.

“Did you know about that?”

“No, but that explains why Steve didn't reply to any of my messages like he didn't even exist.”

“That's why it's called ghosting,” Murray said and made Billy roll his eyes.

“Yeah, thank you for your explanation. Jesus Christ … “

“Can I stay with you?”, Max asked quietly.

Billy wasn't sure if Susan was smart enough to let her, but well, they could try that ghosting thing as well and just vanish. It's a big city after all.

“Sure.”

Max held up a packed bag and the first time today she smiled a little.

“Clever girl,” Billy said and leaned over to put a kiss on her head, felt the soft hair tickle his lips and then wrinkled his nose.

“Jeez, Betty Barclay?”

Max just shrugged.

“I liked it.”

“Awesome,” Billy grumbled.

He had not needed a reminder of his traitor punkass boyfriend whatever.

“I think he did it to help you,” Max said, her voice still very low.

“And I think he should have talked to me. He can't just go and destroy someone's life just because he feels like it.”

“I'm sure he was afraid. I was afraid too … Can't get that picture out of my head when you were lying at the end of the stairs. I thought … “

She pressed her lips together, lowered her head and stopped herself from talking, her fingers white from pressing them around the cup in her hands. Billy was afraid she might break it. He slowly put an arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her. Dark wet spots on her jeans revealed that she was crying. Billy decided to stay silent.

~

It was past nine when Max persuaded him to get some air and dragged him outside the hotel. The sun was slowly setting and a glowing mix of orange and red was coloring the sky. He had tied up his hair and was wearing a baseball cap. It made him feel safer like he was wearing a disguise. Billy reached for his cigarettes and stopped in his movement when he spotted a very familiar van just a few meters away from the hotel entrance.

“You're kidding me, Max?”, he growled.

He should have known but he still had thought they would play in Santa Barbara tomorrow. Max just grabbed his arm tight as if she was afraid he would walk straight back inside again. Robin got out of the car and froze for a moment, looking unsure of how to handle the situation. Billy surely wouldn't give her a hint. She eventually raised her hand to greet them but neither of them moved. Steve crawled out of the back of the Disaster Van, his hair a mess and he still was wearing dark circles around his eyes. He obviously had just been sleeping in there.

“Oh,” he just said when he noticed Billy.

Billy watched him putting on his sneaker hastily. He didn't move, didn't trust his tense muscles, might do something he hated his dad for. Something he tried to unlearn, not a coping mechanism he was proud of.

Steve put on a light smile and walked over to him.

“I'm so glad you are okay,” he said and that totally rubbed Billy the wrong way.

To be fair, there weren't a lot of things Steve could have said that would have made Billy any less angry. But how could he think, he was okay?! Billy clenched his teeth.

“I mean … ,” Steve tried again, sensing that this had not been the smartest thing to say.

“Why did you do that? Who gave you the right to decide about other people's lives?”, Billy interrupted him, trying to stay calm but his voice was vibrating with suppressed anger.

“I did what felt right. Someone had to. When I heard that you were in hospital I felt guilty because I persuaded you to play with us and I wanted to fix this, fix you, try to … “

“ … save me?”, Billy completed his sentence.

“Yes … no … I … “

This was going wrong and Billy knew it but he wanted it to go wrong, wanted to make Steve feel lost and hurt, wanted him to pay for what he set in motion. Deep down he knew Steve wasn't to blame, not entirely. But he didn't want to see the bigger picture.

“Do you wanna know how I feel?! Do you wanna know how okay I feel?!”

Billy was yelling now and he freed himself harshly from Max's grip, shoved Steve aside and climbed inside the back of the van.

“What are you … Billy, no!”

Max clasped her hand over her mouth and watched him in horror. Billy had taken out Steve's guitar of its bag, grabbed it at its neck and as he jumped out of the car he smashed it down on the concrete. Once, twice. It shattered with a dying melody. And after that: silence. Four pair of eyes looking at unattached strings in a mess of what was once an anchor to home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go! Are you excited? I am <3


	15. Epilogue

“You remember when you smashed my guitar?”

Steve was sprawled across the sofa, his feet resting in Billy's lap. A cup of coffee was steaming between his hands and spread its warmth from there across his whole body.

“I remember buying you a new one right the next day.”

Billy looked up from his laptop where he had just been writing the chorus for Morse Home's new song “The Upside Down”. Steve got up a little and flicked his finger against the pianist's ear. Billy didn't even flinch. He was used to this gesture. Said guitar was standing in the corner of the living room and Steve polished it every day like a trophy. He couldn't believe it had been almost a year since that incident. A year where Morse Home had gotten out of their cursed first record contract and had signed another with Murray's help, a year where they had released a mini-album, a year where Neil had gotten a suspended sentence and had lost his job, a year where his wife had left him, a year where Max had her first concert playing the cello, a year where Robin had found her girl Heather at a Billy Talent concert and a year where Steve and Billy had moved in together into a tiny, cozy terrace house near the beach in San Diego. And it also had been the year where Billy decided he wasn't happy being a pianist on stage and instead continued as a songwriter and started to publish his poetry. 

Not everything had been sunshine and roses, still wasn't and might never be – and maybe that's the way life is. But Steve was okay with that, he was happy and most of all lucky that Billy had forgiven him rather quick. Even if Billy still had some trust issues – Steve couldn't blame him. Credits to Robin that particular day. Steve was good at writing lyrics, enough time to think about the fitting words, but not quick to explain his feelings and motivation. But his better half had done a very good job – the fact that she was awesome with words and that Steve's guitar had once belonged to his dead uncle Jezzy and therefore was irreplaceable might have done the trick. 

Steve took a sip of his coffee, then placed the cup on the table, reaching for his phone instead. 

“Oh … listen,” he said when he had read the message that had popped up on his phone screen. “Robin will get us tomorrow at ten.”

She was rooming with Heather either in the Disaster Van or the dormitory Heather lived. She was studying business administration because her parents wanted her to and Steve could already see that go wrong. But with Robin at her side, she might change the choice that wasn't even hers. 

“I am talking to you.”

It was a miracle to Steve how Billy could just blank out everything around him when he was working. But this was important, so he needed to interrupt him. They were going to drive to Hawkins tomorrow, visiting for Hopper's and Joyce's wedding. Steve had been so thrilled when he had Dustin on the phone on speaker to hear the news that he spilled hot water from the water boiler over Billy's naked feet and had been ignored by him the rest of the day. 

“I heard you,” Billy murmured.

“What did I say?”

“Robin will get us a tent.”

“What? No … well, actually this might not be a bad idea.”

The van would be cramped with the three of them and Steve knew they wouldn't be able to withstand touching each other for more than a day.

“I know. Tell her to get one before ten.”

Steve raised one eyebrow, then huffed a soft laugh.

“You're the worst … I love you.”

He leaned over for a kiss, humming pleased when he felt three little words on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand ... it's finished! Thanks to all readers and the ones who wrote me so lovely comments! Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
